THE SHAFT
by halinar
Summary: And they all wait in anticipation (sarc) because Halina has finally finished this story!
1. Part 1--Chapter 1

Hi, I'm back again! Okay, apologies to everyone but this story is going to be massive, (well not too big but I had a whole holiday to write) Once again, I don't own any of the characters they all belong to whoever created them and whoever showed them. I only own my own ones—Haley Johnson and Pete Taylor. (And anyone else I happen to think of))

Enjoy!

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THE SHAFT

Part 1 — Chapter1

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Dinner Convention

Jesse Travis squirmed a little in his seat uncomfortably. He glanced every so often at the speaker, an elderly man on stage who seemed to drift off the subject several times. The talk had been going on for twenty minutes already without the point getting across. Jesse wondered whether the man had actually revised his speech or was improvised. He wriggled a little bit more and shrank further down into his seat. The collar and tie were suffocating him and it was so hot in this crowded hall that he was beginning to sweat. He could tell Steve was feeling exactly the same. If Mark was in the same condition, he was doing a very good job of concealing it. Jesse leaned forward to Steve's ear. "I don't think even James Bond was ever as uncomfortable as I am in this suit."

Steve couldn't help smiling. "I know how you feel. You'd think the convention could have got a bigger hall or at least one with ventilation."

"Or a speaker who didn't go on for hours," Jesse retorted back. Steve smiled, understanding how Jesse was speaking. On a table beside them, someone indignantly told them to hush and they returned back into their seats again to listen to what the speaker had to say. Mark was patiently trying to look as though he was listening but every so often his eyes wandered over the clock just above the stage. Amanda was looking down at her nails in an effort to do something to pass time. The clock seemed to be going much slower than usual. Jesse looked back at the speaker again. Even though he had respected this doctor for so long, he couldn't help thinking that going to one of his conventions was one of the most monotonous experiences of his life.

"…I would like to thank all those of you who came here tonight," the speaker continued. _Should have said that at the beginning, _Jesse, thought. "You have no idea how much these means to myself and to Carl Graves whose birthday we are celebrating today. I'd especially like to thank the surgical department at St Damon's Heart Foundation Hospital and the ER and Pathology department of Community General Hospital right here in Los Angeles." The elderly man smiled, all the wrinkles in his face making him look like a trussed up prune. "Well, enough with the talking, time to celebrate!"

The sigh of relief was evident from both Steve and Jesse as they got up and had a well needed stretch. Everyone did the same. Mark got up, yawned slightly and glanced at his son. "I hope you weren't doing the same thing that I was doing throughout that speech."

"What, looking thoroughly interested?" Steve asked skeptically.

Mark grinned. "No, having a silent conversation through mouthing words to Dr Garrison."

"Dr Garrison?" Jesse interrupted. "He's here?"

Mark nodded. "He's the man over there with the woman in the red dress." He walked over to them. He had known Dr Garrison for his works and personally, when he visited Community General.

Steve frowned at Jesse. "Am I meant to know this Dr Garrison?"

Jesse looked dumbstruck at Steve. "Steve, he's not just the most famous surgical Doctor this side of the US, my friend…he's beats all the odds. He's done work on some of the most famous stars of this time. He's a millionaire but admired by millions for his work. He even set up a hospital in Germany for young bright students to train there."

Steve smirked. "I can see why you're not there." Jesse narrowed his eyes at his friend but could tell by the twinkling in Steve's eye that he was joking. Shaking his head, he turned back to look at Dr Garrison talking to Mark as thoug they were old friends. Jesse knew that since moving from Minnesota to Los Angeles with Mark he had been blessed with many things. He had met more people than he could count both interesting and deadly. He had solved cases and even taken part in owning Barbecue Bob's. What more could he ask for?

Amanda looked over at Dr Garrison. She had heard of his stories and achievements as well but wasn't as enthusiastic about it as Jesse was. She did have his doubts about the old graying man, who seemed to br already past his time but still coping well after several strokes. "Hey, I'm just going to get a drink, do you guys want anything."

"I'll come with you, Amanda," Steve said, but Jesse shook his head, distracted by all the people who he thought he'd only see in magazines and TV reports. The celebration of Carl Graves marked his 67th birthday. He was a well-known doctor, who had founded many of the successful hospitals in California, after moving from Germany to America. He looked around a everyone and then back to Garrison to who Mark was still talking to. He was still looking when someone approached him from behind.

"Well, well, _Dr_ Travis should I say now?"

Jesse turned around and froze. His eyes narrowed towards the man but he didn't dare do anything—not here. The man was the same age as him, startling blond hair and bright blue eyes. He was taller than Jesse but of the same build. "What are you doing here, Jamie?" he asked calmly. "This is a convention for fully qualified Doctors, not delinquents such as yourself."

Jamie's hands clenched at his side but he didn't do anything either. Then he laughed. "What, you're saying that you weren't a delinquent yourself? You were always the one fooling around in Med. School, messing things up. Now you call yourself a fully qualified Doctor?" He gave a mock shocked expression. "How can that be?"

"I worked hard," Jesse said. "I didn't cheat."

"Neither did I," Jamie retorted angrily. "You always hated me, Jesse, so you framed me up and decided to pin the blame on me. You got yourself a bunch of papers that proved I was stealing marks from the Head of the Medical School's son, who himself was cheating as well. You found this out and gave it to the board and got me kicked out of the Med. School in America. You kicked me out for something I didn't do."

Jesse's eyes sparked with anger. "Bull," he said but not too loudly. "It all pointed to you. Why do you still deny it." He took a step towards Jamie.

Jamie laughed. "What are you going to do, Jesse? Hit me, in front of this convention. No, Jesse Travis is too good for that. Very nice and polite when he's around elders and those he respects but always the fool when he was with his classmates. Is it stil the same now? You wouldn't dare hit me. You wouldn't want to disgrace yourself."

"Say anymore and I'll punch you out right here," Jesse said. "You can't say you didn't cheat. I _saw _you go in."

At this point, Amanda and Steve returned. Then set down their glasses and then noticed Jesse and Jamie talking on the other side of the room. They could just about make out what they were saying. By looks on both their faces, they could tell it wasn't a friendly conversation. Jesse's hands were clenched so tightly that Steve thought his knuckles were turning white and the other blond man was glaring down at the shorter man. Steve walked over with Amanda to see what was going on.

"So, how _did _you become a doctor?" Jesse asked.

Jamie gave a bitter laugh. "It took a very long time and a lot of hard work. My mom sent me to Germany, to Dr Garrison's specialist school. I got a medical degree in surgery. I work in some of his hospitals now. How did _you_ get there." Then he laughed again. "No, don't tell me, your rich mother from Minnesota paid all the fees for you. Or was it your father? Oh, no, I forgot, he abandoned you long time ago. Too much for him to look after you."

Jesse took another step forward as though he was about to hit Jamie. Steve got him just in time, grabbing Jesse's wrists and pulling him back out of harms way. He took a look at Jamie. "Who are you?" he demanded.

Jamie held out his hand politely, as though the situation had never occurred and he was having a normal conversation. "Jamie Condrack."

Steve didn't take the hand. "Well, take a hike if you're going to cause trouble."

"Who are you to tell me where to go?" Jamie asked calmly.

Steve showed his badge. "Detective Sloan, LAPD. Now will you stop?"

Jamie glared at Steve, as though he had just ruined his practical joke. He deliberately passed by Jesse who was standing fuming next to Amanda. "I see you made friends in high places, Jesse." He patted Jesse on the shoulder. "Keep up the good work." Jesse roughly pushed his arm away and glared a hole in Jamie Condrack's back. Then he sat down on a chair, trying to keep calm as well and swallow his anger down. He couldn't remember being so mad before. Even out of Med. School, Jamie was the same as he always was.

Amanda sat down, giving Jamie a disgusted look as he made his way through the crowd without turning back. "Who was that jerk, Jess?"

Jesse laughed sardonically. "Jamie Condrack? We used to go to Med. School together but we weren't exactly friends. He was best friends with the Dean's son and the Dean himself was crooked. He used to give the answers to his son so he could pass and then gave them to Jamie as well. I didn't know this at first. I just thought Jamie was cheating so I ratted on him—partly out of spite as well. In order to save his own reputation, the Dean had to throw Jamie out. He's never forgiven me since."

Amanda nodded. "I bet he hasn't."

"That's a long time standing grudge," Steve noted. "He got in Dr Garrison's school? He must have been rather smart then. Strange that he should hate you after all this time. At least he got his doctoring degree. What more has he got against you?"

Jesse looked up sheepishly. "Well, when he left, he had to leave his girlfriend behind, who was also the Med. School. She ended up being my girlfriend."

Steve couldn't help but laughing. "Typical, sounds a lot like you, Jess."

Jesse smiled. "Hey, I was twenty. He was right about a lot of things, though. I was a hell breaker in class. I was the one who started a lot of commotion. I was kinda lazy, I guess."

Amanda remained serious. "At least you didn't cheat to get where you are."

Jesse nodded. He didn't blame Jamie for hating him. He thought that Jamie had every right to. At the time he thought he was doing something right and of course, they were the biggest known rivals in the Med. School. Both were very intelligent, the brightest in the school and best in looks. They were so alike yet they hated the sight of each other. Jesse never thought that his little bit of information could result in something so complicated involving the Dean and his son himself. Jesse also knew the son but it was a discreet relationship.

On the other side of the room, Mark noticed that whilst he was talking to Dr Garrison that something was happening on the other side of the room. But as soon as he saw his son take a handle on it, he reverted his attention back to the surgeon as well. Half way through speaking, Dr Garrison interrupted himself. "Oh, yes, Jamie, come here. Dr Sloan, I'd like you to meet one of my best students in the school, Jamie Condrack." Jamie nodded at Mark and then they shook hands. "Jamie has been the most astounding student that I have ever seen before, Mark."

Mark nodded and smiled at the man. "Where did you come from then."

"Well, I did go to the Med. School in Minnesota before I left and joined Dr Garrison's one. I have to say, it has been most rewarding."

"Minnesota? Really? I have a student myself who used to go there."

Jamie forced a smile onto his face. "Yes, Jesse Travis."

Mark nodded slowly. He could tell, judging by Jamie's stony personality, that he didn't like Jesse, so he didn't pursue the matter any further. He, Dr Garrison and Jamie talked for a short while before Jamie was asked to give a drink to Carl. Mark excused himself and went over to his son who was still with Jesse and Amanda. He looked at Jesse, who was now smiling. "I met a friend of yours."

Jesse's face fell. "Oh really," he asked sarcastically. "Just ignore him."

"I have every intention to."

Steve excused himself to go and get another drink by the bar. As he stopped, he could hear voices coming from behind the curtain. As a cop, his instincts naturally alerted him to something that was going on. He could tell that the conversation going on was far from friendly. He set down his glass and listened to it. "Mr. Lie, I do not believe you were invited to this party," someone said. Steve could tell that from the German accent, it was Carl Graves. "I suggest that if you do not wish to cause trouble, you get off the premsis."

"Here's your _drink_, Carl-o-san. That's exactly my point," the other man stated. "I _do _want to cause trouble. I want to ruin everything that you have achieved, bringing you down in the process. How can you even think about celebrating. I made you—I created your name, pinned it on the map for you to see and you leave me behind without a credit in the world. What have you given me in return—nothing!"

"If I remember rightly, you tried to kill me," Carl stated.

"Bullshit," the other man answered after a few seconds. "I've never tried to kill you, just make your life miserable. All I did for you and never _once _did you put in a good word for me or put my name in the limelight. You just try and take all the credit for yourself. Everything they say about you in those newspapers and TV shows, you aren't. It's all me."

A low agitated sigh was let out but with patience that seemed genuine, Carl Graves said, "You had better get off here now before I call the police. I don't want to be seen with you here. You are a disgrace to me. Leave now before I really do carry out my threat."

"You haven't seen the last of this Graves," the man said and there were the sounds of footsteps retreating. Steve picked up his glass again and pretended to pour as if he had not heard. A few seconds later out of the curtain, Carl Graves came out. He had a satisfied smile on his face as he straightened out his jacket and looked pleasantly round the room, whilst holding his glass in his right hand. Spotting Steve, he nodded curtly and then went into his party once again. Steve set his glass down and watched the man retreat. Puzzled, Steve looked back and making sure no one was watching, slipped out behind the curtain to see who was there.

But there didn't seem to be anyone else there. Whoever had been talking to Carl Graves had long since disappeared down the narrow corridor. He could easily slipped out the curtain and disappeared into the crowd. But he would remember the man's voice. It was raspy, as though he was suffering from a sore throat. He mentally remembered it and continued along his way back to his dad. He didn't mention anything just yet. It shouldn't really be a problem and it wasn't any of his business. It was probably just a disagreement—just a big one.

Still, why was it nagging him?


	2. Part 1--Chapter 2

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THE SHAFT

Part 1 — Chapter 2

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Dinner Convention

Steve returned back to the groups, who were now talking to a husband and wife who were both doctors from the East Coast. Amanda seemed to be in a deep conversation with both of them at the same time. Mark was occasionally asking a few questions. After talking with so many doctors, how many more questions could he ask? Steve went up to his father. "Hey, where's Jesse?"

Mark grinned. "He thought he left his keys in his car so he's gone down to the lobby to check. He should be back in a minute." At Steve's nod, Mark returned to the conversation at hand. Steve looked around for signs of anyone that he hadn't seen before. He saw Jamie Condrack leave the hall towards the elevators. The small hall was filled with people. There didn't seem enough space to even fit all of them in. Steve was on the lookout for anyone that might have been talking with Carl Graves. He was naturally suspicious as a cop.

From then on, a series of events started to take place faster than any of them could handle. They came so quickly that they couldn't get their heads round it. After a nod from Steve, there was a scream coming from somewhere. It pierced the air and everyone seemed quiet. Steve was first to move, pushing himself within the crowd to where it came from. The woman in the red dress, who had been with Dr Garrison beforehand, was behind the stage. At her feet there was a body blood seeping out from a bullet in his back. There was astounded silence as everyone crowded down.

"It's Carl Graves!" someone from the crowd shouted horrified. People looked at each other and then at the body on the ground. Steve, Mark and Amanda had pushed themselves to the front of the queue in order to see. Indeed, there was Carl Graves on the ground. Even face down, it was obvious it was him by the dark gray hair at the thick framed glasses that had fallen off and now lay beside him on the wooden floor.

One of the doctors bent down a felt the pulse of the man. He shook his head. "It's Carl Graves. He's dead."

Whispers echoed through the crowd. Steve took a step forward just as two uniformed officers, both panting arrived behind the stage. "The perps downstairs. He was caught in the act. He ran off down the staircase at the end of the corridor and we think he's in the parking lot. We know who it is. It's Duke Lotella."

Steve eyes narrowed. "The hitman?"

The officers nodded simultaneously. Steve knew exactly who the officers were talking about. Several times the name Duke Lotella had cropped up after several killings in Los Angeles. Steve had once been assigned to the case but he had slipped through the LAPD's fingers yet again. This time, though, Steve was determined to at least try and catch him.

Steve ran towards the fire exit. "Dad, you stay here. Don't touch that body and don't let anybody leave." Mark and Amanda had no idea how they were going to do that but they did try as Steve ran two at a time down the fire exit and opened the door to the parking lot. It was all silent down there. There were plenty of cars and Steve wondered how the hell he was going to find Lotella within this mess. The two officers came up beside him. Steve frowned and looked around. There was no movement. Lotella could have easily escaped by now.

There was the slam of a door from somewhere that echoed throughout the parking lot. Then there was the sound of footsteps. Steve turned his head towards the right. He saw a figure in a tux walking towards the elevator and press the button. Then he saw another figure approaching, wearing brown slacks and brown leather jacket. He had a gun in his hand and was coming up behind the other. "Jesse!" Steve cried loudly. "Get in the elevator! Now!" Jesse whirled round in surprise at Steve. After so many years of working with Steve, he knew well enough not to question twice. He could hear the urgency in Steve's voice so as soon as the doors opened, he ran inside.

Steve knew that Lotella was creeping up on his friend. In order to buy Jesse some more time, he ran forward, his gun drawn and released a shot as soon as Lotella came into view. He was racing his way towards the elevator to get in as well so Steve lifted his fun and fired a shot. Lotella flew back against the wall, clutching his arm. Clumsily, he loosened a shot.

Steve was gaining on him all the time but then Lotella made a desperate attempt. He ran for the elevator, getting in just before the doors closed. Steve got there a few seconds afterwards. He pressed the button wildly, hoping that the doors would open again. He pounded on the door and then looked up. The dial was moving up all the time. "Shit," Steve said, not believing that his best friend was trapped in an elevator with a hired hitman. Jesse may never make it to the top alive. Hitmen were certainly not known to be the kindest of people.

Steve looked up against at the rising numbers that were reaching to the seventh floor—and suddenly, they stopped and froze.

Then the fire alarm sounded.

* * * * * *

It was a doctor from the Heart Foundation Surgical department that saw it first. He was at the back of the crowd; unable to see anything but only catching the news as it drifted like ripples through water along the crowd. Impatient, he jumped around the spot and sniffed the air curiously. There was a strong smell of something rising. Something like smoke. The doctor turned round and his eyes widened at the sight. There was a fire in the room. It was all around the back of the hall, burning al the curtains along that edge and slowly eating away at the furniture set out. "Fire!" he shouted loudly to everyone and the crowd turned round.

Then, all hell literally broke lose. People totally forgot about the murder just committed and were more concerned about themselves. They wanted to get out before the fire blocked their only route of escape. Jumping from the tenth floor was suicidal. So people just ran. Some of them were paralyzed with fear to move but most headed to the door and tried to push their way through. Then they separated their own ways, some of them trying to find their colleagues, husbands, wives or friends and get away before the fire spread outside as well. 

"The lifts aren't working!" someone shouted.

"They shut off automatically when a fire is in process," one of the staff answered, half distracted. "It's to prevent people from using it during a fire."

Mark thought it was the stupidest policy he ever heard. He was concerned about his son, though to worry too much. He had still not returned and was worried that if the building did somehow collapse then he may not find Steve. The fire alarm had been activated and there had been a constant ringing in his ears preventing him from thinking straight. He could barely hear Amanda saying something in his ear. He knew the sensible thing was to get out as well. Most of the people had tried to leave but there was still a massive crowd near the door. "Mark, come on!" Amanda shouted. "It's too dangerous to stay here." She had started coughing now from the smoke. Smelling it also made their eyes water.

Mark got out a handkerchief and gave it to her to cover her face with. "We can't leave. I don't know where Steve is. And what will we do about Carl Graves."

"The guy who killed him must have started the fire," Amanda shouted, "when we were preoccupied with the body. He knew people would run and not think about him. But he's dead, Mark, and we're not. Let's go."

Mark shook his head. "I can't leave Steve."

Mark was naturally worried as a father. He had been worried about his son for most of his life since his wife died. He had worried when Steve was in the army and when he joined the force. Steve had countless of times been injured and Mark remembered many a time standing vigil by his bedside praying he'd making it out alive. He refused to leave his son and let him die without knowing what was happening to him, it was the worst thing a father could injure. The murderer was somewhere loose downstairs with Steve. And with this fire going on, anything could happen. The body was also on his mind.

"Where's Jesse!" Amanda suddenly shouted and that got Mark even more worried. He had forgotten that Jesse was downstairs in the parking lot as well, looking for his keys. Mark closed his eyes and looked towards the exit where everyone had practically gone. There was a sudden rumble and then suddenly, the fire roared upwards towards the ceiling. A bit of it fell down, crashing towards the center of the hall taking whatever had been on that floor with it. More screams were heard. The fire engulfed everything and Mark knew that everyone had suddenly become a total mess. There was confusion and turmoil everywhere.

"Dad!" someone cried and Mark turned round. He gave an audible—well as audible as he could—sight of relief when he saw Steve walked up the stairs towards him. "Dad, what are you still doing here in the fire. Get out of here now!"

Mark shook his head. "Sorry, I was worried about you."

"Forget about me. We have to get out of here," Steve said, grabbing his father's arm and leaving the body of Carl Graves behind. Amanda followed quickly as they were led outside. "As soon as I heard the alarm I rang from a phone box in the parking lot. The police and fire brigade should be here soon and get everyone out but we have another problem."

Amanda looked at Steve. He could see that he was worn out. His tux jacket was off and there were worry lines on his face and it wasn't just about what was happening. She put a hand on his arm. "Steve, what's wrong?" she asked fearfully. The sounds of sirens were already approaching.

"I was chasing Lotella downstairs. Jesse was down there and about to go into an elevator and Lotella was creeping up on him. I tried to shout to Jesse to get into the elevator and he did. I shot at Lotella once, in the arm, I think. But he still managed to get into the elevator. He was in the elevator with Jesse and I couldn't get there in time to open it. I have no idea, which of them he was on. I wasn't paying attention. I don't even know if Jesse's…" He couldn't bring himself to say it. He wanted to live with the hope that the inevitable had happened.

Steve had been on enough cases to know how the average mind of a criminal mind works with the exception of psychopaths. Hitmen were not the nice type. They were hired to kill and weren't often caught. Anyone who got in their way also went down. Jesse was just an innocent bystander. He would never forgive himself if Jesse got caught. He didn't even know where they were. Maybe the elevator had already come and Jesse was still there. Or maybe Lotella was using him as a hostage just in case. Or maybe he was dead…Steve shivered at the prospect.

"Oh, God," Amanda muttered, putting a hand to her mouth. She looked around like she expected Jesse to appear at some moment. "Then where is he?"

Even if Steve did have an answer, he wouldn't have been able to say it. A rumbling interrupted them and suddenly, more of the ceiling collapsed, covering the entrance. Amanda cried out as it did so and they covered their faces from the rising dust. There was a sudden noise from the stairs and two firemen came out of the half-broken stairway. "What are you still doing up here!" one of them shouted. "You have to get out of here, this building is unstable." Steve, Mark and Amanda moved forward. "Is that only you left in the room?"

"There's a man who was murdered earlier still in there," Mark replied, much to the surprise of the firemen. More rubble fell around them and then instinctually ducked. "And…"

"No, ands," the other fireman said. "You have to get out of the building. We don't know how stable it is." He ushered them out, ignoring their protests. Hopefully, most of the people had managed to get out. The hot smoke was getting to them, making them sweat and they were coughing involuntarily, making their throats hurt. They made it down several flights of stairs to the entrance. There were firemen down there, the people from the floors below who had made it out and a few spectators. The film and camera crew. As soon as the clean air hit their lungs, they breathed it in happily. Steve's attention, though, turned right back to the building.

"Jesse," he said to himself and then marched over to the nearest firemen. "Who's the person in charge of this?"

"Um…sir, I don't think you have any authority to…"

Steve held up badge. "I think I got all the authority. Who's running it?" The fireman pointed over to a man who was barking out orders at everyone, even if they were doing their job right. Steve went over to him.

"I'm Steve Sloan, from the LAPD. I know there are two more people inside that building. There's a hitman in there and one more doctor called Jesse Travis. They were in an elevator just seconds before the fire started."

The fireman gave a small clicking noise and looked up at the building. "Well, this building was designed for the elevators to shut down right as a fire starts. If it was seconds before then they are probably still in the elevator now." He looked towards Steve. "Do you know what elevator they were in?"

"No."

"There's six of them! How could you not notice!"

"Usually, that's not my main concern when a hitman is after your best friend. Now he's in there, possibly dead with that hitman. I don't want to think about the possibilities. It's your duty to get in there and get them out." The fireman was chewing on a small toothpick, in between his teeth. When Steve finished his little speech, he took it out and threw it on the ground. The fireman was a big burly man but smaller than Steve. He couldn't quite stand up to the detective's height.

"Your friend, right?" he asked. Steve nodded. "I suppose you want to go in there and help us find him?" Steve looked taken aback. The man didn't seem at all harsh about it or disgruntled. It was as though he understood.

"If I can help it yes."

The man turned towards one of his firemen. "You! Get another suit out for this man and make it quick. There are two more people in there and we're going in after them. Gather your team." The man turned back towards Steve and extended his hand. "I'm Jim, Jim Ross. I'm in charge of this disaster. I'm allowed you in there only 'cause you're a cop and you know about this stuff. You follow everything I say. Don't run in there because your friend is inside."

Steve nodded. He knew he was going to disobey that order somewhere along the line. For all he knew, Jesse was probably already dead. He was going to try and get him out of there whether he was dead and alive. He'd take risks to do it as well. Steve had broken the rules many times before and it had often given him good results so he shouldn't be too bothered. He was going to find Jesse, though, and get him out of there. "All right, let's go," Jim said, grabbing his hard hat once Steve had finished. Steve took a glance at his father and Amanda, assuring them that everyone would be all right and then headed into the building again. As they went in, a fireman came out.

"The fire is under control now!" he shouted.

Steve looked back to his father. "Don't worry, we'll get him out."

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In the Elevator

Jesse thought he'd made it when he ran into that elevator. He had no idea what Steve was shouting about; but he just ran. It was when he turned round after getting in that he saw the problem. There had been a man behind him and he was holding a gun. Jesse shivered at the thought that he had come so close to Steve and thanked him again. Jesse didn't think twice but pressed the button of any floor. As the doors began closing, he saw the man get shot.

The man turned round and looked right at Jesse. Then, he lifted his gun and shot again. "Steve!" Jesse cried, hoping no one had got hit. He was about to go out until he saw that man coming towards him, propelling both him and Jesse into the back wall of the elevator. The doors slid shut and Jesse saw the parking lot disappear. And what of Steve? He leaned against the wall, his hands shaking. He couldn't really understand the events that had just taken place. He had no idea what was going on. All he knew that he was with an armed and dangerous man and they were in the same elevator.

Jesse looked at the back of the man. He was leaning against the doors after they had closed. He clutched the arm that was shot and his gun hung uselessly in his shot arm. Cautiously, without saying a word, Jesse got up off the floor and straightened up. The hitman only for the first time knew that Jesse was in the elevator. Helooked up at Jesse as the man straightened up but didn't say anything. His eyes narrowed. Nothing was said between them. Jesse could feel the blood pounding in his ears. He was breathing quickly and he thought his heartbeat could wake the dead. The only other sound was the other man's pain filled breaths with the occasional gasp of pain.

Jesse looked at the floors. Ground floor…third floor…fifth floor…seventh floor…then it stopped. The whole elevator shuddered and then stopped, making Jesse and the other man lose their balance. Jesse held onto the sides of the elevator, waiting for something to happen. He had no idea what button he had pressed. But the doors did not open nor did the elevator started moving. _Great, _Jesse thought, _now we're stuck. This whole evening has been a disaster since the beginning._ Jesse still waited but nothing seemed to happen. He shut his eyes. Nothing could be worse. Now he was trapped in this elevator with a madman. Hopefully, Steve would notice something was wrong.

The man also waited, panting. Then he got up and with his good arm, started pounding on the door of the elevator. "Hello!" he cried loudly, making Jesse flinch. "Hey, someone get us out of here! Open these doors now!" He took another few breaths. "Hello!….Help!" He continued for another few minutes before sighing in disbelief and leaning against the door, wiping his brow.

"I don't think they can hear us," Jesse replied quietly. He could hear a siren coming from somewhere, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. The man looked up and noticed Jesse for the first time. He breathed heavily but eyes Jesse up and down. Then he looked away without saying a word, clutching his arm again. "I should really see to that," Jesse said, taking a step forward.

Alarmed by the movement, a gun was lifted towards him. "Don't…don't come near me," the man shouted. His arm was in agony after moving it.

Jesse held out his hands. "I'm not armed or anything. I'm a doctor. I can fix that for you…well, not fix it, just make it better." Jesse wasn't sure what made him want to save this man's life. He could kill him right there and then and every sane cell in his body was telling him to retreat. But Jesse was a doctor. There was this other half to him that protested, saying that he had to do this. Jesse slowly approached the man again. He looked unstable, sweating and panting and his hand with the gun didn't move from Jesse. He tried to forget that was there and concentrate on the matter at hand.

"You can make it better?" the man asked.

Jesse nodded. "I'm a doctor. And Doctors aren't meant to kill so I don't have a gun. Besides, we're trapped. What can I do."

The man looked at Jesse again and then slowly put his gun away, falling to the ground in the elevator, his eyes tightened in pain. Jesse walked over to him and bent beside him. The man opened his eyes to see Jesse. He looked slightly uncertain. "Are you sure you're a doctor? You don't look as though you've graduated out of university."

"Trust me, I am, do you want to see my id? I work in the ER of Community General Hospital. Heck, I've performed brain surgery!"

The man's eyes widened. "Did they die."

"Nope, they are alive and well. You have nothing to worry about it." Jesse helped the man out of his jacket and then rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to peer at the wound. The bullet had ripped clean through the upper arm of the man and had probably lodged itself in a wall of the car park. Jesse knew this made his job much easier. As quickly as he could, he stared to tear the man's leather jacket, knowing they were strong enough to hold the man's arm in place. Then he started to make a sling. Jesse had a strange sense of déjà vu, as though he remembered doing this before not long ago. He remembered and then wished he didn't.

The man groaned. "That's my best jacket. I stole it."

"Well, I'm sure you'd be able to steal another one like it," Jesse remarked, slightly distracted. He was improvising here, without any of his medical kit, only the things around him in the elevator. "I've treated more patients than you have probably killed."

The man turned round to face him. "How do you know I was a killer?"

Jesse smiled slightly. "Well, I don't know many people who hold a gun like you and attempt to kill someone. You have the look of a killer if you know what I mean."

The man grunted and Jesse wasn't sure if it was sarcastic of one of pain. "Oh yeah? And how would you know what a killer is like?"

Jesse wrapped the leather bandages around the man's arm. "That man you were shooting at in there, he's my friend. I work with his father, who's a doctor. You could say that I get caught up in a few of his cases and even been a case myself. I have a pretty vague idea. Besides, anyone running around with gun and shooting without a conscience has to be a killer." Jesse finished bandaged and looked back at his primitive handiwork. "Well, it's not the best thing I've done as a doctor but that's all your going to get."

He tested his arm, and didn't wince as much as he used to. He looked up at Jesse admiringly. "Not bad for yourself, kid." He put his arm back down and leaned against the wall of the elevator. "Well, considering we ain't going anywhere until they find us, we may as well pass time by talking. Even though I don't tend to talk to many people…what's your name, kid?"

"Jesse Travis."

"Jesse Travis of Community General Hospital. Pleased to meet you. I'm Duke Lotella, professionally hired hitman." The smile from Jesse's face erased.


	3. Part 1--Chapter 3

****

THE SHAFT

Part 1 — Chapter 3

_Outside the Hotel_

Amanda shivered despite the heat that still radiated off the building. The fire had been put out quite a while ago but she could still feel the heat. Now out in the open, the air was chilly and cool, making the goose bumps rise on her skin. She rubbed her hands over his arms and looked around. Mark was leaning against one of the fire engines, looking up at the building and then down at the ground again. He was shaking his head in belief. Amanda knew that he had been greatly looking forward to this party. He had admired Carl Graves as well and was honored to be invited to the celebration. Now it was turning into disaster what with the murder of Carl Graves and the whole fire catastrophe. His son was somewhere in that massacre and Jesse was trapped inside.

Amanda walked over to him and put a hand on his arm, jogging him out of his daze. "Mark, what are you thinking about?" she asked cautiously.

Mark looked at her. "Many things really; the party, Steve, Jesse…endless lists. I was also thinking about the murder. Who would want to kill Carl Graves and who would cause such a disturbance like this in order to prevent themselves from getting caught. Who really would want to kill Carl? He was widely respected…I never thought he was a man to have enemies."

Amanda smiled and said, "everybody has enemies, Mark. Even you do."

Mark laughed. "True, I suppose. It's different when you talk about it from another person. Once this whole mess is cleared up inside that building, I'm going to find out who has done this." Amanda knew there was no persuading Mark when he had his mind fixated on an idea. Mark was addicted to his ability to solving crimes, especially personal ones.

One of the firemen came up to them. "Dr Sloan?" Mark nodded. "We just picked up your dead body. We managed to get him out."

Mark looked elated. "Really, that's great!"

"Err…yes," the fireman answered uncertainly. "Where do you want us to take him?"

Mark didn't hesitate. "Send him down to the pathology labs at Community General Hospital." The fireman nodded and went back to his duties. Mark looked back towards Amanda. "Well, that's good news then. At least we can get started on something when we get back. I want to know exactly everything I can about that body. There's something about this case which really interests me and for some reason, I have no idea what it is." Whenever things puzzled Mark, he liked to get to the bottom of things. He hated giving up on something that he had started and not yet finished. Well, he had already started this investigation. "You _will_ do a thorough report on all of this, won't you?"

Amanda gave him a sidelong glance. "You know me better than that, Mark," she said then she saw him laughing.

Mark looked around again after Amanda had playfully hit him. There, not far away was the man that Dr Garrison had introduced him to—Jamie Condrack. He was also looking up at the building, a strange look upon his face. Jamie turned round his blond head and spotted Mark staring at him. His eyes narrowed and he walked over to the older doctor. "Is there something about my appearance that startles you, Dr Sloan?" The man's piercing icy blue eyes bore into Mark's much softer once. Mark tried not to flinch. Jamie Condrack was certainly good at manipulating people.

"No, just wondering about a few things that all. About you and Jesse Travis."

Jamie rolled his eyes. "Please, spare the grief. It's bad enough I had to even spend time with him in that building."

Mark looked back at Jamie. "Well apparently, Jesse is still in that building."

Jamie looked from Mark up to the building. For a second, evident shock registered on his face and Mark wondered whether there was a bit of sentimentality behind that harsh mask. Then the mask came back on again and Jamie whipped his head round to Dr Sloan. "I hope you're not implying what I think you are Dr Sloan. I have heard a lot of your reputation of nosing around the place. I may not have liked Jesse Travis but what is the reason for me wanting to kill him. I'm a doctor after all."

"You left the main hall right after Jesse did. What was to stop you from shutting the elevator down as a harmless prank without knowing that a murder would be committed plus a fire."

"The elevators shut down when a fire is in process. You heard it yourself."

"Do they? Or did you plan it?"

Jamie Condrack's eyes blazed even wider. "How dare you. You know, I don't even have to listen to any of this. I don't care if Travis is in that building or not. He can stay there but I had nothing to do with it and that come straight from my heart…Dr Sloan," he added as he walked by. Mark watched him disappear into a thick crowd, an amused smile playing upon his lips. Amanda had watched the proceedings in amazement and then turned back to Mark, and saw the expression on his face. She frowned in confusion. 

"Mark, am I missing something? What was all that about?" Mark turned towards her. His smile had slightly diminished and was replaced by a more thoughtful look, a sure sign hat the great mind was in working again. He looked back towards Jamie, still retreating into the crowd but one of the policemen prevented him from heading into the crowd.

Mark shook his head. "I was just thinking of something. It is strange that Jamie was out first straight after Jesse. It could easily just have been a childish prank. The elevators did stop _before_ the fire alarm went off. He could easily have done it and he had a motive."

"Do you think he had a motive for killing Carl Graves."

Mark thought again. "That is yet to be said. I see no connection between them at all. This case may take a lot of digging around in the past. And something else about Jamie, he was the first one outside as well."

"That proves he could have started the fire if he was outside the room and everyone was preoccupied with the body," Amanda continued.

Mark nodded. "Yes, but we'd need to do an autopsy to find out whether Jamie was in the room at the time Carl Graves was murdered." Mark sighed and looked up at the building again, thoughts of Steve and Jesse returning. "Yes, Jamie Condrack is a promising suspect."

__

In the elevator 

A silence echoed throughout the elevator shaft. Jesse stared at the man in shock. So the man was probably a murderer but not this sort of kind and this worried him even more. His eyes warily looked up to the top of the shaft, praying that someone found him. When he looked down again, the sight of Duke Lotella's amused face met him. "What are you worried about? Scared that I'll take out my gun and shoot you right now."

Jesse shook his head and pressed back against the elevator door more and then sat down. "No…well, yeah, I guess. But you are hired to _kill _people. You're a professional killer. How can you do that?"

Lotella laughed and put his gun down on the ground. "That's just the doctor side talking about it, kiddo. You stay in my business long enough, you find that killing is the only way to get around here. It pays good, too." He looked at Jesse's horrified face and laughed. It sounded as though it scratched his throat because it was so dry. "Don't look so horrified. You're bent on saving people and I'm meant to kill them. We're on total opposite sides of the chain." He narrowed his eyes to the young doctor. "I don't even know why I'm talking to you."

"Well there's not one else to talk to," Jesse said looking up. "We're trapped in this stupid elevator shaft. Will you spend your whole time ignoring me."

Lotella looked back at the young doctor as Jesse sighed with exasperation. He looked off his dinner jacket, undid his tie and then undid the top button of his shirt. He had to admit it was really hot and he was just in his shirt. Jesse tossed the jacket and tie into a corner, and then rolled up his sleeves to looked up the shaft again. Lotella leaned back against the doors again and looked at his arm. It had turned into a numb throb but it could have been worse. At least he had to hand it down to the doctor. "So…" Lotella said, trying to make conversation. The silence was nearly deafening him.

Jesse looked down to him and shrugged. Lotella could tell that he was still nervous. Was it because he was in an elevator with him? Or was it because he was just _in _the elevator, trapped. Lotella got up and kicked the door of the elevators hard that he could feel the jar roaring up his leg. "Goddammit, open up! I want to get out of here!"

"I don't think we're getting out until search and rescue arrive."

Lotella growled which could almost have turned into a roar. "Well, then we're obviously not getting out of here. We'll have to wait for someone to bloody rescue us." He looked at Jesse then at the doors again. "I suppose I get out no matter what. I just use you as a hostage and then get rid of you afterwards."

Jesse got to his feet. "You can't just get rid of me like that," he shouted, the panic evident in his voice. "I mean…it's just cold blooded murder doing that. You take me and use me and then get rid of me? I was never part of your plan in the first place. Don't drag me into it."

Lotella's eyes narrowed. His plan was slowly falling apart. "What do I care if you live or die. You'd just be like another few thousand I've already killed. What would one young doctor mean for me? I've killed more people than you have saved," he remarked, saying the opposite to what Jesse had said. 

"You're hired to kill them," Jesse said, taking a step forwards, even though Lotella was much bigger than he was. "You weren't hired to kill me. Don't you ever get a guilty conscience, running around and wasting people's lives that have a lot ahead of them? You gotta think about more than money in this case. Money is no reason to get rid of a life."

Lotella let out a deep hiss, beginning to get annoyed. He pushed Jesse in the chest shoving him into the wall. "You're a doctor. You don't exactly get paid very much but you still keep on at it because you're 'saving people's lives' and enjoying it. Well, I still keep on at it because it's my job and I'm doing totally the opposite."

"But do you enjoy doing it?"

Lotella stopped. "Maybe I do. Maybe I don't," he answered. "It's no business of yours. All I care about, is getting out of here and making sure that I get out of here alive."

"And so do I," Jesse stated, "what makes me different to you?" Lotella advanced towards Jesse again had the doctor looked at the gun still lying on the floor, afraid that Lotella might take a chance and use it on him. But if Lotella was sensible enough and was still going to use Jesse, he would keep him alive…for now. Jesse knew that things looked pretty much hopeless for him. Stuck in an elevator shaft. He had tried to use the telephone but without much avail. The lines were dead as well. Lotella kept on muttering to himself, wanting to open the doors or maybe the latch at the top.

"I have an idea," Jesse said quietly. Lotella turned round slowly. "I think I know how we can get out of here. If we get out of here alive without the help of the police, I never knew you. You made it out and I'll never mention our visit. You don't kill me either and you go ahead Scott free."

Lotella narrowed his eyes. "You're a doctor. Why would you want me free."

"It doesn't matter about who we are now," Jesse pursued. "What matters is that we're trapped down here and something is wrong up there. The phone lines don't work and there is a strange siren. I also smell something weird." Lotella sniffed and shrugged. "I'm not saying there is but we would both benefit if we tried to get out ourselves…without killing each other."

Lotella thought this over in his head. He had never been particularly bright in school and left when he was fourteen. He had learnt how to use guns and became a pretty good shooter. From then on, his reputation grew and when someone paid him for his work, Lotella realized this could be a good career. But where his aim was good, his logic and intelligence wasn't. He was cunning, that's for sure, and suspicious but not smart. "All right," he agreed. "We'll do it, and I won't even bother hurting you." He gave a small smile. "Hey, you could be all right, kid—what's your name…Jesse?" Jesse nodded. "I suppose if we're going to get along here we may as well get on some good terms so let's start again." He held out his hand. "Duke Lotella, and just call me Duke."

Jesse took it more confidently. "And I'm Jesse…not kid, not kiddo, not sport. Just Jesse."

Duke grunted. "Don't think I'm being sentimental or nice towards you. I'm just doing it to get out of here. So Dr Jesse, who do you think we should do?"

Jesse looked up. "I've been thinking about that trap door up there in the roof of the elevator. It shouldn't be too hard to open if we do it properly. Considering I'm smaller, it makes sense that I should stand on top of you and try to open it. That way, if we're close to one of the doors, we should be able to climb and make our way out and separate."

Lotella hummed slightly and held onto his arm to support it more. "You sound pretty sure about this," he said. Deeply, he thought that the plan might work, but he wasn't sure. There were a few faults. "All right, I suppose it's better than nothing. Without both arms, I can't open this door and by the size of you, I don't think you'd be able to." Jesse gave him a sidelong glance. Balancing himself, Duke Lotella braced himself as Jesse stood on his shoulders and lifted him up. Jesse at the same time, was careful not to hurt Duke's injured arm.

"Hey, don't lift me too fast, you'll slam my head in the ceiling," Jesse cried out. He lifted his arms and started to undo the latch. After a few moments of moving out the rusty nail and pushing up the latch, he shoved the flap with all his might and it slammed onto the ceiling outside the elevator. Grabbing hold of the sides, he pushed himself up, his arms straining and when his legs left Duke's shoulders, he kicked to try and get more leverage.

"Ouch! Watch it!"

"That's payback," Jesse said playfully. He got up onto the top, took a few deep breaths and then turned back round again. He put a hand down, knowing it was going to take all his strength to pull this man up. "You're going to have to put your feet on the wall of the shaft to help and climb up, ok?" Duke nodded grimly and Jesse started pulling again with all his strength. Many times he could feel Duke slipping from his grasp and he held on with both hands, hoping he wouldn't fall back down the shaft. Duke was going higher and higher every time until his feet were out of the elevator and then he could pull himself up with his hands.

"Oh man," Duke said, rolling his shoulder where it had been pulled on. "You know, for a doctor, you sure do pack a wallop. I don't want to go through that again." He looked back down the elevator. "My gun's down there so I guess I can't kill you effectively any more. Well, we may as well try and get out of here now we've come this far." Both he and Jesse edged their way to the other side of the elevator and looked over.

Duke let out an awed breath. "Oh…shit," he said out loud. His voice echoed off the walls of the shaft and to the bottom, making Jesse's stomach lurch. It was a long, long way down to the end. Even with the electricity on, they wouldn't be able to see the bottom anyway. It was pitch-blackness everywhere. Only the small light that they had in the elevator provided them with some sense or orientation.

"What do you think, Jesse?" Duke asked.

"Exactly the same as you, oh shit."

"No I mean, what do you think about getting out of here."

"Oh right." Jesse sat back on his heels and thought for a moment. He looked up the shaft to the top. He couldn't see the ceiling either. "Well, you're not going very far with that arm of yours. I think," he said slowly, "that if I can make it up to one of the doors and wedge it open, I can get help…Oh, maybe not," he said, changing his mind at Duke's glare. "Then, I'm going to have to find some sort of way of getting you out of here myself. You're not climbing."

"You'll be doing a lot of pulling," Duke insisted.

Jesse shrugged. "Oh, well I have to tone up some how, even if it does mean dragging up a hitman twice the pounds that I am." He fumbled around, reaching for the cord that held the shaft in place. His stomach was retching against him. The thought of what could happen if he fell or slipped or lost hold on that rope made him want to throw up. But he had made a promise. Jesse had never been fond of heights, but then again, never particularly scared of them. Now with solid concrete around seventy-five feet below him, it wasn't comforting, and he was scared. Taking a deep breath, Jesse grabbed the cord and lifted his legs up, hoping that the lessons he had taken in gym had paid off somewhat.

* * * * *

Steve clambered his way through a smoke filled building. He was grateful for the oxygen mask because he knew that without it, he would probably choke. The thick fog of smoke was still visible and damp on the exposed areas of his skin. They had made it up to the floor where the fire had started. There wasn't much left of the main room anymore apart from the fallen timber, walls, burnt furniture and part of the floor above that had fallen onto the floor. 

Steve turned away from it. There had only been two causalities and one death so far. It could have been much worse. He wasn't interested in the hall, though, and if there were survivors under the rubble. Well, he was, if it had been anything but Jesse trapped in here as well. He walked out of the hall and towards the elevator. He shone his torch up and looked at the doors. They were tight shut. The lights within them had all died down. Looking through the pane of glass in the doors, he could see that the elevator wasn't in front of him. It made things far more complicated. 

"Jim!" he shouted over to the main fireman. Jim Ross climbed over the rubble towards Steve. "He must have come back up this elevator, I'm sure of it."

Through his protected face, Jim's eyes narrowed. "Someone bring the crowbar over here, and a big one. I want this lift here, wedged open." One of the men came over, carrying a crowbar. Both him, Steve and Jim, tried the pull the doors open and eventually, with a creaking sound, they reluctantly did and pulled aside. Steve pushed the other doors back as Jim took an extra flashlight out of his pocket and pointed it down.

"There she is," he said, nodding his head. "I can see her." His eyes narrowed even more. "Aw, hell, she's right in between this floor and the one below. There ain't no way we can get to her unless we climb down or up and we ain't got any equipment like that with us at the moment."

Steve looked in shock from the man to the elevator where his best friend could be stranded. "Isn't there any way we could get some. I need to get down there—or at least for someone to get down there. He's in there with a hitman. Please…I don't even know if he's alive any more."

Jim Ross stood up to his full small height. "Listen, Sloan, I feel for you, okay? I lost my best friend and partner in a fire over two years ago. I know _exactly _how you feel. But I can't go around risking anyone else's life, your understand. I don't want to put my life on the line or yours. But if I let you do anything but yourself, you'll be killed. This is dangerous stuff we're dealing with."

"I know that," Steve said.

Jim sighed and turned away. "We'll get to it. Wait for the equipment up but you're not going down there to do it by yourself." Steve watched, his hands clenched into fists at his sides but he tried not to let the anger show beneath his suit. He felt hot and bothered and shook with anger to relieve the tension.

He turned back towards the elevator shaft. "Jesse!" he shouted loudly, keeping his fingers mentally crossed. "Jesse, can you hear me?" But his voice only echoed and he got no answer back. Sighing, Steve knew it was useless to carry on. It seemed that he would have to wait for the necessary equipment to arrive. He was about to walk away when he heard a horrible sound behind him like a horrible metallic _twang _and then a snap.

The firemen raced towards the open door and watched as the frayed cord snapped from the weight of the elevator. Steve could only watch helplessly as the elevator whooshed down tot he bottom. The sound of it hitting the bottom after several long seconds was awful. Steve closed his eyes, trying not to imagine what Jesse was thinking and what had happened. It had gone at an incredible speed. It was enough to make Steve sick but he refused to give in. Anger overtook him.

He pushed past everyone with protests and walked over to Jim Ross, who looked horrified. "Is that what we get from waiting," he shouted. "We could have saved him! Now, he's definitely dead if he wasn't dead now. My best friend is dead and you just told me to wait."


	4. Part 1--Chapter 4

****

THE SHAFT

Part 1 — Chapter 4

_Outside the Hotel_

Time seemed to pass to slowly for Mark. He looked up at the building all the time as he sat inside his own car. He was worried about his son but curiosity about Carl Graves's death still taunted him. He wanted to get to the bottom of it. It was because of him that this whole mess had been conjured up. His son was somewhere in that building, trying to save lives, and he young doctor protégé was also in there, who knew where! There had luckily had not been many lives lost, but the shock of it all still lingered on Mark. The only thing keeping him from fading away was thinking about the case. How can one perfectly planned night turn into such a disaster?

He couldn't take his mind of Jamie Condrack. Something about that man worried him and made him suspicious about him. He may have despised Jesse but really pull the trigger on him like that? Would he have started the fire and would he have killed Carl? Jamie seemed like a very intelligent man. Mark thought that he'd have to be if he managed to get into Garrison's school. There was this strange attitude around him, though. Would that student have all these qualities to murder Graves? There were too many things to do and a lot of them he couldn't do now.

Amanda came up to him and handed him a cup of coffee. "I've just called my sitter. She says she can hang onto him for another few hours. She's studying and CJ's asleep anyway." She took a sip of the coffee and knew she'd feel warm again. "You know, Mark, you should really go home. I know I should as well. It's no good us staying out of here. It's out of our hands now anyway." She looked back at the building. "It could be a while before this whole scenario is under control."

Mark shook his head and smiled grimly at Amanda. "You know I can't do that. Not with Steve and Jesse in there. Anything could happen and I want to be there when it does." He sighed and stretched, getting out of the car afterwards and shutting the door. From the quiet streets a car roared down. It was a silver sleek convertible with tinted windows and a powerful engine. It stopped outside the hotel and a woman got out, slamming the door without looking behind her to make sure it had closed proper and stared in horror at the building. Her long golden hair fell to her shoulders and even in the darkness gave a strange shine. She looked around for someone she knew and spotted Mark.

"Mark," she said running up to him. Her voice seemed full of relief "The police rang me fifteen minutes ago. They said there had been a fire at the hotel here and that Jesse was still inside. Is it true?"

Mark nodded grimly. "I'm sorry, Haley, it is," he told Jesse's girlfriend. Her head snapped round in horror again at the building her eyes growing wide. When she turned back round to Mark again, he thought she was going to faint. "But don't worry, Haley, Steve is in there looking for him. He promised to find Jesse and bring him out. It's going to be fine, you'll see." Haley shivered as well. When she had got the news, it had almost made her pass out. Now that she had come and found it was true and not a bunch of prank callers, she was even more worried.

"Should I get you a coffee, Haley?" Amanda asked, concerned that the girl was too frantic with worry. The blond nodded.

Mark put his arm through Haley's. "Come on, you have nothing to worry about," he said half truthfully. "You know how Jesse has come through before and Steve will find him. Jesse may be small but he sure has a way of worming his way out of situations. He's tough."

Haley nodded and ran a hand through her tousled hair. She was doing a very good job at composing herself. She wasn't crying. "I know, I know," she said and sighed. "It's just that, I _do _worry about him. He was so looking forward tonight; always talking about it when he got home from work to the point that I was sick of it." She smiled at the memory with Mark but she changed rapidly when she thought of the situation at hand. "Now, look…we're back where we started before."

"Haley…" Mark insisted.

"Please," Haley said, shaking her head. It looked as though she was about to give a speech and pour her heart out. Mark knew he would be there to make sure she was all right and listen. He had trust in Haley. She was a smart and sensible girl. "I've been worried about Jesse ever since this thing with Marcus Lavoy. I've done everything I can change myself and be for him and he's done exactly the same for me. I just can't help worrying about him all the time. His job is to be a doctor to save lives, but half the time it's his one that needs saving."

Mark nodded understandingly. "Haley, you have been the best thing that's happened to Jesse for a long time. You both deserve each other. You've looked out for him and was even there with this whole business of Marcus Lavoy. Not many people can stand up to it. Now, if you can take that, you can take this. You have nothing to worry about." He lifted Haley's head up and looked at her earnestly to prove his point.

Haley smiled. "Yeah…ok," she laughed slightly. "I don't know why I do it sometimes." She looked back up at Mark. "How are you?"

Mark waved a hand away and said, "Oh, no, I'm fine."

Haley shook her head, a frown on her face like she was scolding a three-year-old child. "No, you're not. I can see it in you. You're worried and scared for Steve, aren't you, because he hasn't come back." Mark didn't say anything and tried not to let it show. "Mark, you just made me feel better so I'm going to try and help you. You don't have to always look as though you're strong. I'm hardly ever strong. But you know that Steve has been able to handle anything. He did with Marcus Lavoy—from all the stories I've heard from Jesse, he's been through more gunshots and kidnappings than any man has. You _know _that he can get out with any of them. Besides, he's with other people in there, isn't he? Other firemen…which is more than my Jesse."

Mark decided not to tell her the truth that Jesse was in fact in an elevator shaft with a hitman. It would probably only get her worked up more and he had only just calmed her down. "What a way with words you have, Haley."

Haley laughed lightly. "Jesse said the same thing to me."

Amanda returned with the cup of coffee and handed it to Haley. "Thanks," she said. "How are you, Amanda?"

Amanda shrugged. "Tired—sore. I think part of the rubble hit me when it came down." Seeing the look on Mark's face, she insisted, "I'm fine, don't worry. It's just a scratch. Nothing that a normal plaster won't heal." She put the coffee cup on top of the roof of the car and put her face in her hands. "Man, this is like a living nightmare." Amanda was obviously tired. A twelve-hour shift from the day before and the panic of CJ and his sitter was showing on Amanda's strained face. She wanted this night to end—she wanted to go home but at the same time, couldn't afford to.

Mark and Haley were inclined to agree. Amanda turned around on the spot and Mark went over to her, worried about her state. "Amanda, are you sure you're all right? You look awfully tired. I think it's my turn to say you're to go home as well. You look too exhausted to be out here waiting."

Amanda shook her head firmly. "No, I'm not leaving you or Steve out here," Amanda insisted. "I'm your friend as well." Mark smiled with appreciation, knowing that Amanda was speaking the genuine truth. He was glad to have someone out here with. Haley was too upset and worried even if she was a good person to talk to and for Jesse's sake he would. 

A raised voice attracted their attention. "Machu, you are talking absolute nonsense!" the voice cried. "I know I have worked it out. I was only talking about it with Carl this evening. He said you were incompetent and unloyal. He was going to cut you out of the shares of the company."

Machu, a young Japanese man of about thirty-five with dark hair and eyes stood up. He had a very hoarse due to an operation on his throat five years ago. "This is absurd!" he cried back, but it wasn't very loud. "I knew nothing of this, and even if I did, what is the reason for killing him? It would be much easier for me to sue considering I made him! How would you know about it anyway!"

It was Garrison who was the other talker. Amanda and Mark waited behind a fire engine, waiting to see what was to be said. "I heard you talking with Carl earlier this evening. You were arguing and you sounded pretty annoyed—like you want to _ruin_ everything." Garrison looked at the Japanese man, an amused look on his face, as though he was waiting to see how he would react to this.

Machu stood up. He wasn't a tall man, barely past five foot. "You are beginning to cross over that line we call harassment, Mr. Garrison," the secretary implied. "I did not do anything, I can swear to that on the Bible on any other Holy Matter. I suggest you leave the detective work to the police and they will find the real killer." He put his hands together and bowed graciously. "Good day, Dr Garrison." He walked away, his elaborate suit following.

Amanda and Mark looked at each other. Amanda smiled cheekily. "The plot thickens."

* * * * *

It was like a standoff. The firemen all watched as usually patient Steve Sloan faced the not so patient Jim Ross. Steve felt many different emotions come over him in the space of mine. There had been desperation—desperation to get his best friend out. Anger, hurt, pain and disbelief had rapidly followed it. He had watched helplessly as the elevator carrying his best friend and a hired hitman plummet over seventy five feet to a cold hard concrete floor. The impact would have surely killed them or if not, there would have been seriously inured, possibly paralyzed—Steve didn't need his father to be a doctor to know that. He had seen many suicide attempts off from buildings. Just watching that scene play over and over in his mind made him sick. He was acting more as a friend than a policeman, like any man would react if they had just witnessed their best friend's death. Jesse had been a really good friend to him because he was a friend of his father's—they were more than that, they were partners as well.

"He could have been saved!" Steve shouted, pointing back to the elevator doors, still wide open, where dust was still rising. He was doing a good job at keeping his emotions clear even though the anger was evident in the voice showing the first stages of shock over his friend's death. The black shaft behind them was like a gaping hole.

"What do you suggest we do, huh, Sloan!" Jim said, raising his own voice and the other firemen stepped back. "Were we going to just waltz down there where there was a broken cord and get two people out in less than five minutes. You must be mad. Tell me, what were we supposed to do!"

Steve glared at him. "Get the equipment up here."

"It could have gone down before the person reached the bottom of the hotel."

"Then it should have been brought up here with us!" Steve cried, his hands shaking in anger. He was forcing the tears not to fall. One drop and he knew he was out. "I mean…even I should have known that if he was in an elevator what we should have done." He kicked the wall in frustration, angry with himself now. He had failed to save Jesse. He didn't care if he hurt his foot.

Jim looked at the defeated cop. He walked over to him and put a large strong hand on the shoulder of the man. Suddenly, his own anger diminished as well and he looked at the man who was in a position where he had once been. "Sloan, I do mean what I say when I know exactly what you feel. It's never easy to lose someone and losing someone like this. I've probably seen as many men die as you have in my profession and it's never pleasant. Losing someone close to you is beyond recognition until you've done it. I'm sorry." Steve simply nodded, clenching his hands so hard in order to stop himself from crying. "Okay, men, I want you to head to the ground floor. Open that elevator and see what you can find." Jim looked at Steve. "I'm guessing you don't want to come?"

Steve shook his head. "Nah…I'm just gonna…stay here." With that, Steve leaned against the wall and put his hands up to his face. The elevator was to his right but he was too afraid to look towards it. He could almost imagine a ghost coming from it or he would recall those few seconds when the elevator plummeted down the shaft. It probably lay in pieces now at the bottom. The realization had only just sank in. Jesse, his partner and best friend was truly dead. All the years they had spent together had literally just shot down. Was it really all worth it? The Jesse Travis, the young and innocent one of the group who had just passed his internship and had years left to go, had just lost it all. Jesse could have had so much more, been a really great doctor and it had just been wasted. What would he tell Mark and Amanda? How would he break it to Haley? Steve had done so many of these procedures in his lifetime—he had gone to a relative or friend's house to announce a death. Jesse had done it himself. But now it was different. It was of his best friend to people he knew. How could _he _live with it?

"Okay!" Jim Ross shouted, his voice reverberating around the shaft like an African drum. "Lift it up, now!" It took several efforts but eventually, the dozen firemen managed to pull up the rubble and metal that once was the elevator and shove it aside. It landed with a crash, echoing where the other elevator would have been. As the dust and noise settled, the firemen peered in. Expecting the worst, they braced themselves and shone their torches into the dust and remains. Frowning, Jim pushed himself forward, bustling past everyone, and knelt down on the ground, pushing the rest of it apart. Only a jacket and a bow tie lay in the remains. Then he stood up, only one thing in his hand.

"Well, now this is weird," Jim said, almost to himself. He held up the dusty gun in his hand by the nose and examined it closely. "Now I got no idea if this is for the worse or for the better." He sighed and passed the gun to one of his men, who grabbed it like it was a hot potato. "They ain't here 'cause bodies don't disintegrate that fast. Maybe Sloan got the wrong elevator or maybe they managed to get the right one and got out."

When the news was told to Steve Sloan, the dramatic change in his mood shocked Jim Ross. It seemed that all his confidence was restored. There was determination there now and Steve still clung to the hope that his best friend was still alive and somehow managed to get out…even if Duke Lotella was still with him. At least it was something. Duke could have easily killed Jesse and left his body in there while he escaped. Something was renewed within Steve. Knowing that he couldn't do much more by just sitting in here, Steve's sense and logic was stored, he decided to head back downstairs again. He thanked Jim. When he exited, there was a crowd of people outside the hotel. They included some of the guests, paramedics, several fire trucks, reporters and very curious onlookers that wanted to stay up half the night to watch this. He could see his dad with Amanda by the car and Haley had arrived as well. Steve wasn't sure whether to be worried that she was here. There was no bad news to tell. But Haley could overreact a lot.

Steve knew though that she wouldn't leave.

When they spotted him, they ran over to him. "Steve? What's happening?" Mark demanded. "Where's Jesse?"

Steve looked at the pleading Haley and wondered how he was going to break this. "Well, we got the floor and we think we knew which elevator Jesse was in. But before we could get to it, it fell to the ground." Shouts of protests and alarms broke out. If the situation weren't so serious, Steve would have laughed at all their faces. "Don't panic!" he cried. "When they went to check on it downstairs, there was no one or nothing there but Duke Lotella's gun. Somehow they managed to get out cause I don't think they got the wrong elevator. As far as I know, they're still in the hotel."

Mark sighed and shook his head. He turned away. Even though this was good news, this didn't put them any more forward on Jesse's whereabouts. Haley looked up at Steve. "His chances are good, though, aren't they?"

Steve hesitated for half a second. In that half a second, his eyes flashed to his dad then back to Haley. "Yeah, they're good."

Mark knew his son better. Looking at him, and by the tone of his voice, he knew Steve wasn't entirely sure.

Hi, me here. Hope everyone's enjoying the story. Don't worry there is a plot to it! I'm not just rambling on and on about disasters in fires. There is still quite a bit to go. Anyway, enough of me. Please read and review, I'd appreciate it very much. Thank you!!Halina


	5. Part 1--Chapter 5

****

THE SHAFT

Part 1 — Chapter 5

__

In the Shaft

"I'm not doing to die," Jesse calmly as he wriggled his way another inch up the rope. His dinner shoes were not helping and made him slip occasionally so he had to use his knees to get himself up. His hands were getting sticky but he forced himself to hold on tighter. "I'm not going to die." Before Steve and the firemen had managed to get to their floor and open their doors, Jesse had been climbing and Duke Lotella was watching him expectedly, a slight worry on his face. He wasn't sure whether it was worry for the doctor as a person, or worried for the doctor in case he didn't make it and the police captured him. Duke wasn't sure about himself any more.

Jesse paused for a second, thinking that the strain in his arms would be too much and that he'd have to let go. "Don't look down, Jesse," he told himself. He took another deep breath and almost choked. A horrible strong odor swept into his mouth and into his lungs. He began coughing. "Smoke?" he said to himself and shivered, hoping it was the burning of a fuse or something. Steeling himself, Jesse continued to journey upwards.

"I see it!" he shouted down.

"See what?" Duke asked. "The light?"

Jesse narrowed his eyes and looked down at Duke. Then he wished he didn't. The way down the shaft seemed to have lengthened more than he had hoped. "Very funny for a killer. No, I've just seen the next lot of doors on this floor. I'm going to try and grab them." Jesse hoped he didn't sound as scared as he felt. That was the last thing he needed to show.

"Be careful," Duke said to him.

Jesse raised his eyebrows in surprise by the caring in the hitman's voice. "Great, I get to know a man for an hour who's a killer and already he worries about my safety," he muttered under his breath. He soon forgot his sarcasm and dry humor as he concentrated on the matter at hand. He had climbed high enough, which was around five meters above the elevator shaft. When he looked to his left the elevator doors to the next floor. Jesse took a deep breath and clamping his knees over the cord to give himself more leverage, he let go of one hand and leaned over to try and catch the ledge.

"Not smart, kid!" Duke shouted up to him. His voice suddenly appearing almost made him let go and Jesse could swear that his breath stopped for a mini-second.

"Oh yeah. I'm sorry, I forgot to bring my climbing equipment and parachute just in case," Jesse retorted sarcastically. "What do suggest I do? Sprout wings and fly?" Jesse was in no mood to try and think logically. Seventy-five meters above ground, no one thinks logically.

"How about you listen instead of mouthing off," Duke replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "How about you climb a little bit higher so you can put a foot out instead of your hand. That way, you're already stepping onto the edge."

"Really? What do I hold onto if I lose my balance and fall."

"I'll leave that to you to work out. Trust me, it's easier than pulling yourself up." Duke looked up at Jesse through the darkness.

"Fine, fine," Jesse started and climbed up a few inches until he was directly in front of the elevator doors. Feeling a little bit more worried about this, he stretched out his left foot and tried to reach the edge of the doors. "I'm too small for this," he said miserably to himself. "Why couldn't _I_ have the bandaged arm." Jesse swung himself round on the cord without thinking and placed his foot there, catching hold properly. Then, when he had both feet over, he pushed his body back, so his back was pressed against the back of the elevator doors. Jesse stood there for a few seconds, catching his breath. He could have sworn his heart could be heard pumping all the way through the shaft, it seemed so loud. His hands were pressed against the metal of the closed doors. "Phew."

His few seconds of glory didn't last long as he heard a horrible screeching sound. As he looked down, the horrified face of Duke Lotella met his gaze. "Um…kid, I'd be grateful if you opened the door and helped me up before this thing plummets down."

Jesse nodded dumbly. The ledge of the elevator was only about a foot wide. Slowly and carefully, whilst holding onto the sides, he turned round so he was facing the doors. Then, bending slightly put his fingers into the crack between the doors and started to push them open. He could feel his fingers begin to scream with pain as he lost all feeling in them but ever so slightly, the doors began to move. Jesse put as much effort into it as he could and when he heard the elevator below creaking again, he put even more energy into it. Eventually, the doors opened, pulling back and Jesse took deep breaths after that exertion and looked inside---or more like outside.

"Oh man," he said to himself. The corridor was in total darkness. Not a soul walked along them. No sound was heard. It was as though the place was totally abandoned. From somewhere drifted the horrible smell of smoke, which he could see, rising above. 

"Hey, kid, I'd appreciate it if you could find something," Duke called up, his voice echoing. Jesse turned round and looked round the deserted corridor, his eyes watering from the smoke. He wondered how he was going to get Duke out. He could hardly pull him up even if he did have a rope. Duke was much better built and heavier and well—Jesse wasn't. After a few seconds of searching, Jesse found one solution: the hose that was coiled round a wheel attached to the wall not far from the elevator. He began to uncoil it from the wheel and lower it down to Duke from the shaft. Jesse hoped that it would last the whole way down. He wasn't even sure this was going to work but trying this was better than nothing was at all.

Duke grabbed onto the red 'rope' and looked at it. "Are you sure this is gonna work?" he asked skeptically, looking at the end of the red hose that was in his hand.

Jesse's head appeared from the doors. "It's the only way I can find. There's something really wrong up here. There must have been an accident or a bomb or something. There's smoke everywhere."

"Or maybe they just burnt the birthday cake in the kitchen!" Duke shouted, grabbing hold of the plastic.

Jesse rolled his eyes. "Do I have to put up this escape with your bad jokes."

"Seems like it," Duke called up. "Now, save your energy and started pulling." Duke had never been a man for humor. He was harder on the outside and he didn't even know how much emotion he had on the inside. He'd never really let it out. As a hitman, it wasn't really something you did. There was just something _about _the doctor that made him feel more relaxed.

Jesse, on the floor above, went back to the wheel. Once again, he was summoning strength for the third time. Jesse wondered whether he had strength within him anymore. He could hear the creaking of the elevator below him again as the cord snapped a little more. Panic rushing through them, he grabbed the wheel and started turning so it would start coiling up again and lift Duke up to the level. He knew the he had lifted Duke when it became much harder to move him upwards. Jesse was midway when he suddenly stopped. "Why am I doing this?" he whispered to himself, thoughts circling his mind. Duke Lotella was a hired killer and here he was, practically at Jesse's mercy begging to be saved. Was this how his victims had felt but Duke showed them no mercy.

"What are you doing kid? Why did you stop?" The words hardly filtered through Jesse's thinking mode.

_You're a doctor, Jesse,_ he thought to himself. _These are not the sort of things you're meant to be doing. You're meant to be saving lives, no matter who they are, not going into political arguments about the rights and wrongs. _Jesse nodded to himself and started coiling up as well, the smoke stinging his eyes and the energy nearly drained out of his arms, and he felt almost on the verge of collapse. He didn't even remember how long it took to lift Duke up. All he knew afterwards was Duke putting his legs through first and then pushing the rest of his body up. Jesse pulled him in, careful not to put any more pressure onto the injured arm.

Both of them lay back, panting, against the wall. Duke looked over at the slightly worn doctor beside him. "You all right, kid? You look like—hell."

Jesse shrugged. "I think I need to eat more protein cause my arms feel like Jell-O. There would have been enough food at that party if all this never happened. My eyes and lungs are killing me from all this smoke and I think I'm dehydrated. I'm sure you are too. You must be suffering from delayed shock after that bullet in the arm and…"

Duke held out his good hand. "Whoa, whoa, Doc. You'll kill me from your medical talk." He wiped the hand over his brow and leaned his head back against the wall. He wondered what they should do from now. The doctor had been doing a lot of the strenuous work. Maybe it was his turn to think of something. He had no idea about the layout of the hotel. That usually helped. He could guess that there was something wrong within the hotel. There could be police crawling everywhere after Carl Grave's murder. Cursing his bad luck, he thought about what to do.

Then he heard it. A very faint echoing cry. He didn't know where it was coming from. Something was said and then it was stopped. It came again. "_Jesse_!" It was coming very faintly from the elevator. Jesse's head snapped round towards the open shaft, his eyes widening. Hope seemed to be drifting up already. "Steve?" he said to himself. The cry came again, but not in response to Jesse's already recognized exclamation. Jesse turned towards Duke, who was looking perplexed. "It's Steve. He's the cop you shot at. He could help us."

"Kid, no!" Duke cried, jumping up and grabbing the pant leg of the doctor. Jesse managed to shrug it off though and head towards the elevator again. In desperation, Duke leaped up despite his injured arm. He jogged towards Jesse, just as the doctor reached the elevator.

"Ste—" he tried to shout but didn't get much further. A hand clamped round his mouth and prevented anything else from being said. He squirmed and tried to get out of his grip but didn't struggle too hard, as he didn't want to fall down the shaft. Suddenly, Duke's arm didn't get count. He could get out of here and he was going to do it somehow. Duke had other ideas obviously. "Don't say anything, kid, I can't afford you to."

Fierce icy blue eyes met Duke's brown eyes. It was an inaudible question demanding why not. "We made a deal. We were going to get out of here without anyone's help so that I wouldn't get caught. Once we're gone, we can get out of here and I can dump you—alive—somewhere else. Promise you won't shout?" Duke, when whispering, sounded almost as though he was threatening someone. Once again, panic ripped through Jesse as he thought that Duke was capable of killing him again. Jesse thought for a few seconds and nodded. Duke let go of Jesse and the young doctor tore away from the temptation to shout from his friend. Why should he care about the welfare of this man, his mind asked him again. Steve would be able to help but suddenly, he understood the other man's need. It was like a survival of the fittest out there. If you didn't make it to the top you were dead. This was Duke's living. He didn't have anything else.

"But this guy's my friend. My mentor at the hospital, that's his son. He's a really good friend of mine. He'd be able to help you because he listens to me."

Duke looked at him sardonically. "Oh yeah? And what could he do?"

Jesse shrugged. "I don't know. Give you immunity or something?"

Duke shook his head. "That idea was given up years ago. I'm a killer, Doc, hired and loaded to destroy life. Cops don't take too highly of that. They don't want to give me immunity to kill elsewhere. This is America!"

Jesse sighed and then looked back at the shaft again. "So, I guess I'm going to have to stick to the deal and get out of this mess?" he asked. Duke nodded but his eyes didn't give a look, which said, if you don't, I'll kill you. They were more pleading. "All right, I suppose I'll have to if it means keeping alive. And I suppose I've got to get used to your crummy jokes."

Duke smiled. "They're not that bad," he said with relief. Then they heard the elevator crash to the ground. They turned to look at each other, very pale.

* * * * *

Jamie Condrack stormed angrily away from Mark Sloan after he'd finished his mild interrogation. After being told he wasn't allowed to go anywhere, he sat down near the paramedic station, trying to calm his thoughts down. Jamie hadn't been injured at all. The fire had started almost as soon as he left the room. How dare that man call himself a doctor and a policeman at the same time? He had no idea what being involved in the police was, surely! He had been lucky. But Jamie knew that luck wasn't needed with him. Jamie was outraged that someone had even thought about questioning him.

He drained the rest of the water from the plastic cup. Then, as one last effort to release all his tension, he squashed the cup in his fist and then threw it aside, the last droplets of water spraying everywhere. "He can't pin anything on me," Jamie said to himself. "I've got nothing to hide. He's just stirring up the cooking pot and he puts a few bits and pieces together—the only thing that he could come up with was me." Jamie laughed. He wondered how he himself, even as a doctor would be able to pull off a murder and get away with it. Jamie wasn't stupid.

"Jamie?" someone inquired and the doctor turned round.

"Oh, hey Doctor Garrison," Jamie said as the elderly doctor came towards him. "Have a seat." Dr Garrison sat down beside his student and looked at the damage done towards the hotel. "Terrible, isn't it?" The younger doctor just hummed in agreement, his thoughts not really on the damaged hotel. "Jamie, what's wrong? You seem distracted—frustrated."

"That obvious, huh?"

Dr Garrison nodded. "Tell me."

Jamie's sharp blue eyes turned towards the veteran doctor. Dr Garrison had seen that look before in Jamie. He was very familiar to it. "I've just been interrogated by your friend, Dr Sloan." Garrison raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Yeah. It seems he thinks I stopped the elevators and caused this murder for some unknown reason."

"What proof would he have of that?" Garrison wasn't totally surprised that Mark Sloan had done. He prided himself in solving murders.

"Only circumstantial stuff," Jamie informed. "He thinks it was just taking out a grudge on that _Doctor _Jesse Travis. So what if I walked out right after he did. There's no proof that I shut down the elevator and stopped it." Jamie ran a hand through his hair again in frustration. He had no idea whether he was worried about the accusation in case it stood or still angry that someone had even _considered _him to be a part of this. Dr Garrison looked at his most favored student in pity.

"Revenge can be such a waste of time. But sometimes rewarding only in the mind."

Jamie's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying I did this."

Garrison shook his head. "No, I'm certain you didn't do this. You're not capable of such a thing. You're a bright boy, Jamie, one of the brightest I've taught. Never let any type of envy of anger of someone lead you to revenge. It could have dire consequences. For instance, the business with Jesse Travis…"

"Fuck Travis!" Jamie shouted loudly. Dr Garrison wore a shocked expression on his face, as he disapproved of such language. But he could see that Jamie was genuinely shaking from anger. "How _dare _he do this to me. He ruined almost everything that I'd had by giving me away. I _know _it was wrong now but I was younger and an idiot. I could have lost all that I'd worked for because he was just there in the background. I do hate him—I hate him more than you can possibly imagine but I'd never resort to murder. It's not what a doctor does even in an operating room. They do everything they can to prevent life from being destroyed. I learnt that from you." His hand unclenched again, trying to push his anger down. It hardly looked good in front of his own mentor.

Garrison nodded. "And if you carry on believing that, life will go on well for you. You must not let Dr Jesse Travis get in your way but don't try and get him _out _of your way either." When Jamie nodded, Garrison nodded. "Well, I have to go and see someone. I'll see you later, Jamie, and try not to worry. You know I'd be behind you if anything went wrong. I suggest you try and get some sleep or something. It has been a long day for all of us." He got up and left Jamie to his thoughts, worried about the sudden hate that Jamie had conjured up over Jesse Travis. Everyone had enemies but surely not…

Jamie nodded and then looked up at the building with his eyes narrowed. He looked up at the seventh floor. "You'd better get out of this Travis. No matter how much I hate you, I'll never forgive you if you don't get out of it alive."

* * * * *

Fifteen minutes later, after his confrontation by Dr Garrison, Machu stormed away from him, his elaborate clothing following him. He was in a suit, but it was highly decorated with a deep blue and golden in Japanese designs. Machu was as enraged by the accusation as Jamie had been. But unlike Jamie, Machu was a calm and patient man. He had to be pushed very far to lose it and he had just been pushed. 

Machu looked up at the fire, unaware of the eyes of Mark Sloan and Amanda Bentley watching him. He gazed up at the fire. His dark eyes were full off sorrow for the loss of someone he could almost call a friend. He did share good times with the man but like with everything, they had their ups and their downs. Machu wasn't sure if he felt guilty about shouting at Carl Graves earlier that day. Maybe it was slightly unnecessary but there was a certain amount of truth to it. He didn't like being kept out in the spotlight. Carl could have all the fame and glory he wanted. All Machu wanted was one mention—_one _bit of credit and he got nothing. Machu was an understanding man. He had been brought up in Japan; son of a wealthy man and with the tradition had learnt the art to be noble and to understand when enough is enough. He was good at controlling his emotions.

"Machu?" someone asked and the man turned around, almost jumping out of his skin.

"Oh, Mark-o-San," the Japanese man said, bowing his head slightly. "I am sorry, I did not hear you approach."

Mark shook his head. "Don't worry, must be my light feet." Machu smiled pleasantly. "I couldn't help wondering, I just overheard your—uh—conversation there with Dr Garrison. You looked upset, what was he saying to you?" Of course, Mark knew exactly what was said. With all the turmoil running around after the fire, it gave him the opportunity to ask a few questions. He hated asking Machu, though. He personally knew Machu. The young doctor had been a resident at Community General and a smart one at that. He was always polite and never said anything back. He only answered when spoken to. It seemed impossible that this man could do such a thing.

Machu gave a small grunt of disgust. "The old fool knows not what he speaks of. He makes accusations when has absolutely no connection to the police." He looked apologetically for the police. "You, of course, Mark-o-San have a right to be involved with the police as it is your son's profession." He let out an exasperated sigh. Amanda could not help thinking that it was amusing to see the small man frustrated. "But—the crudity and rudeness of that man can take one by surprise."

"Why would Garrison think you would murder him."

Machu was too all over the place to see the point in Mark's question. The agitation was clear in his movements, expression and by the way he spoke. "Something about me killing him because I was being cut out of the will. I do not care what I could have got out that man's 'kind' heart. Excuse me, I need a drink of water." The man walked off leaving Amanda and Mark lost in thought.

The pathologist looked at Mark, her eyebrows raised. "Another motive for murder."


	6. Part 1--Chapter 6

****

THE SHAFT

Part 1 - Chapter 6

Amanda hated not spending time with her son. CJ meant to the world to her but there were times when her job got in the way. Mark's schemes and investigations also got in the way. Now this was hardly any fun. This had turned into a job and an investigation merged into one. She couldn't go back home to her sitter and the sitter had happily agreed to spend the night. After a lot of protests, Steve had insisted his dad, Amanda and Haley return to the hospital if they were unwilling to go back home. At least there, they could see Jesse when he came back. In the sleeping in lounge, Haley had already fallen asleep, her long golden hair, flowing over the cushions and her shoes on the floor. Mark was in another bed, his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. Sleep took a long time coming.

Amanda had been asleep until a phone call came for her. It was the sitter. CJ had woken up after a bad nightmare and wanted his mom. The sitter, a sensible student, had decided it was best to call Amanda so CJ knew. "When are you coming home, mom?" CJ asked, his tired voice saying everything needed to make Amanda feel guilty.

"I hope soon, CJ," answered Amanda, hoping it was enough to convince her son. She had no idea how long she'd be. She hoped this would be wrapped before the morning-but what exactly was there to wrap up?

"Are you still working with Mark and Jesse?" 

Amanda smiled. "Yeah. You know, it's a doctor thing."

"Can I speak to Jesse?"

Amanda hesitated, trying to think of something to say. She knew that at her son's innocent age, it wasn't a sensible idea to bring the reality of the situation into his awareness. She was thinking of an excuse. "Well, CJ...you know how busy Jesse is, always looking after people. He's not with me right now. But-how about when I'm finished here, I'll make up for it by arranging a meeting with Jesse at barbecue Bob's huh?"

"Ok!" CJ's voice had definitely brightened.

"All right. But you have to promise you'll give Katy no more trouble tonight. You go straight to bed and go to sleep. No TV or bedtime stories. Katy will be telling me and you won't be able to see Jesse." After the business with CJ cleared up, Amanda hung up the phone but held onto it for a few seconds longer as she placed it on the receiver again. She prayed to god that Jesse made it out of yet another mess. Then she turned round and headed back to the sleeping lounge. She was shattered. When she entered the sleeping room, a lamp was shining. Peering in, she could see that Haley was still asleep, but Mark was still wide-awake. His bedside lamp was on and his head was leaning against the wall as his glasses were on and he was looking at a piece of paper. In his hand was a pen, which he was writing furiously with. "You planning on writing a novel or something?" Amanda asked.

Startled, Mark dropped his pen but picked it up again. He smiled at Amanda. "No, haven't got enough time for my memoir yet," he said as he leaned his head back against the wall. "I was just thinking about this case. It's bugging me so much that I can't even get to sleep any more. I was wondering who would want to kill Carl Graves and who had the opportunity."

Amanda took her shoes off and sat beside him. "What's your list like?"

Mark smiled wryly. "Very small." He showed her. Machu was on the list with his motive for being pulled out of the will. Jamie Condrack there but a question mark was placed under the motive section for Carl Graves even though it was possible he could have done something in Jesse's line. There didn't seem to be anyone else. "Who else were you thinking of?" Mark asked.

Amanda shrugged. "Well, I don't know how significant it is. But I was talking to a woman at the party, one of Carl Grave's previous girlfriends. One of many."

Mark raised his eyebrows; surprised by the comment Amanda had given. "Carl Graves doesn't strike me as the sort of person to have flings."

Amanda smiled slightly. "Well, apparently he had lots of them. This woman, Jeanie Morgstone had been with Carl Graves for over two years. I _happened _to be going to get another drink when I overheard Jeanie Morgstone crying. She was with another woman. It seemed she was upset because Carl Graves had just left her. Well, her anger totally diminished when she realized that the woman who was comforting her, her friend, was the one that Carl Graves had left her for. Her first words as she pushed her away was that she'd kill him, even if she had to do it with a broken heart."

Mark smiled broadly and pointed the pen at her. "Brilliant. Another motive for murder. Love." He wrong it down on the piece of paper, proud of his list that was slowly beginning to grow. Of course, they'd need to talk to quite a few people. That would have to be a likely list of suspects.

"And don't forget," Amanda said, "whoever it was hired a hitman."

Mark nodded. "Yes. We'd have to see what kind of a person would do that and maybe Steve could tell us the profile of this Duke Lotella. Professional hitmen, though, demand a lot of money. Over several thousand pounds."

Amanda thought this over and frowned. "If it was Jamie Condrack, how would he come up with so much money to do that kind of work. He's only just passed his internship, like Jesse." Even if Mark had come up for an answer to that, he wouldn't have been able to voice it as the door of the sleeping lounge opened again, ever so quietly and Steve poked his head round. He had got rid of the fireman's uniform and found a pair of jeans and T-shirt that his father still kept around his office in case, seeing as Steve spent a lot of time at the hospital as well.

"All quiet in here?" he whispered.

Mark nodded and then pointed at the still sleeping Haley. Steve smiled. "Well, I'm heading back down to the site to see if anything else has cropped up." His voice turned into an unnaturally lower pitch. "Jim Ross hasn't called me like he said he would-means Jesse still hasn't been found." Amanda found herself tensing up slightly at Steve's words but no one seemed to notice, not even Mark next to her.

Amanda had a horrible vision of sitting CJ on the seat next to her in their comfortable home and explaining to her young son that Jesse wouldn't be around any more and that he had gone to a better place. CJ wasn't completely naïve. He was capable of understanding the concept of death and that he would never see anyone again. It was the same when his father died. How would CJ take it if he had lost Jesse, who he had once begged his mom to marry so he could become his father. Amanda shook the thought away, knowing it would not come to that. Jesse had made it out of almost everything. What would one more make.

"Well, I'd better get going," Steve said. "I'll see you later and dad..." Mark looked up..."don't even think about taking your car and coming down. I don't need to worry about anything else at the moment." The sincerity in Steve's voice didn't even make Mark joke. The older doctor simply nodded and watched as his son shut the door again quietly to not disturb Haley and head back down the corridor to the scene of the accident.

* * * * *

Jim Ross, as much as a dedicated worker he was, was prepared to admit that he wished this could tone down a little. He was glad that he could now relax. The fire had been controlled, most people had been taken out of the building and they had somewhat stabilized the seventh floor so it wouldn't collapse. The worry that there were still another two people somewhere in there did add to the worry inside him. He didn't want to break the death again of a best friend to Steve Sloan. But the other worry on his mind was the cause of a fire. Jim had seen them all-gas fires, chip pans, kids playing with matches and arson from kids with gasoline. This was, though, was by far the most interesting and creative way to start a fire. "It was a doctor's convention, what did I expect?" he said to himself, as he turned around.

He saw a dark car approach and park outside. From it, the tall frame of Steve Sloan emerged and spotting Jim, walked over to the burly fireman. "Well, how's it going?" he asked, praying for some good news to come out.

Jim sighed and leaned against his engine. "Slow and boring. We're still looking for your friend. He hasn't emerged yet neither has your hitman. I don't really like my boys lurking around with a professional killer in there." Jim wiped his brow with a handkerchief even though it wasn't hot-a sure sign of the stress of the evening. "One good piece of news, though, we found out how the fire was started and it ain't no ordinary electrical fuse."

"What is it then?"

"Potassium." He smiled as the expected shock on the lieutenant's face. "I'm not pulling your leg. Potassium has been known to combust spontaneously, presumably when it reacts with air. It really does send off some fireworks when it reacts with water."

Steve nodded. "How did potassium get in there anyway?"

"We found a few liquid traces of it. Potassium is a soft metal; it can be melted down. It was an ignition just waiting to be set off. It usually blasts off over 25c and from the size of that all and the amount of people in it"

Steve frowned. "How come you know so much about this."

Jim grinned broadly. "I'm not a completely thick fireman. I did study quite a lot of chemistry and physics in school. Besides, if you're a fireman, you have to know this kinda stuff."

"Is this arson then?"

"Well, liquid potassium certainly did get there from a bottle or something like that. I've never known of a case where potassium is miraculously sprayed everywhere." Steve gave Jim a sardonic glance. "Then again, this was a doctors party, I should have expected." Finally, he looked from the large building down to Steve with a grimace. Seriously, he added, "Someone wanted that fire to happen. The thing is, we've been spraying water all over the potassium. It could go off again."

* * * * *

Jesse walked down the length of the corridor with Duke Lotella by his side. He wasn't completely happy with the arrangement that they were attempting to get out of here without any proper help at all. Running round a half burnt building was not Jesse's idea as fun. The building could easily collapse on top of them. There could be a whole ton of rubble just waiting to rain down. It was like walking inside a giant death trap-hardly Jesse's way to end his life. He'd rather have been shot with Duke's gun than anything else. Duke, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong. He walked, whistling every now and again, humming a tune over and over himself.

"Baby...I got you baby..." he would say over and over again.

Jesse coughed a few times unintentionally and looked at the man. "Stop that, it's annoying. I never knew hitmen had time to listen to music." He carried on down the corridor, unable to see more than a few feet in front of him. The smoke wasn't that thick because most of it was on the floors below. But it was enough to make vision impossible. 

"I didn't know doctors had time to go to parties," Duke retorted. Jesse made a face behind Duke's Lotella's back. When the hitman turned round, he simply grinned. "You are one sly person, kid. If I had you to tag around with as a sidekick, I'd probably dig a hole and shoot myself in the desert."

"Good. That would save me from your bad singing. I think I'm going deaf."

Duke simply rolled his eyes. "I don't know how we're going to get out of here," he said and flopped down on the ground. The smoke was still beginning to rise. Jesse had carried on coughing and fell to his knees beside Duke in order to get some clean air that wasn't hovering around the floor. Duke staring worriedly at the young doctor, wondering what he could do to help. But finally, Jesse's coughing subsided and he leaned back against the wall, next to Duke.

Nothing was exchanged between them for a few moments. Then Jesse lifted his head and turned to look at the other man, a growing frown setting upon his face. "What do you mean you don't know how we're going to get out of here." Jesse sat up onto his heels as he realized the question. "I've worked hard out of this. I mended your arm, myself out of the shaft and then dragged you up. I think it's your turn to do something and getting out of the building is the easy bit. Don't tell me you can't find a way out of here."

"Of course getting out is easy," Duke retorted. "A handicapped blind woman could do it. The problem is getting out so that no one sees me."

Jesse rolled his eyes, the anger beginning to settle in. "Oh yes, this again. All so that Duke Lotella can save his dam skin and not get caught," he drawled sarcastically, not afraid of him anymore. "Duke Lotella can kill other people with a gun without a care in the world. _He _never cared about what the other person felt like but when he's close to death, things are a different matter. You feel what they feel. You know, I almost didn't pull you up the shaft because of that reason."

"Oh really, was that what you were thinking?" Duke asked.

"Yes, really, I was thinking that!" Jesse shouted loudly, his eyes blazing. "And what I'm also thinking, is that I could be back at Community General Hospital, either doing my rounds of sitting in a hospital bed. I should have just called out to my friend when I had the chance and let Steve save me. But no, I stayed here and dragged it out with you, a hitman, in a burning building. I could be safe right now! Outside! I don't even know why I'm thinking about you."

Duke finally lost his own anger. He pushed Jesse; the push making the larger man stumble and his head hit the opposite wall. "I didn't ask you to think about me," he shouted. "I asked you to participate. I _ordered_ you to participate. I'm a hitman, kid, and you got no idea what it feels like. If I get caught now, I got nothing to support myself when I get out of prison..."

"_If _you get out," Jesse hissed menacingly and was rewarded with a slap around the face, which made his cheek turn red.

Duke came closer to Jesse and the doctor felt that panicky feeling that each other Duke Lotella's victims must have felt. "Get into my shoes one day, kid, and you would see what a hitman is being like. I don't give a shit how you feel, and that's the truth. I don't give a dam how my victims feel either. I'm paid to do a job and I keep my end of the bargain, that's the way it goes. Money is everything. If it weren't, I wouldn't be in this job. I should have just killed you in the shaft and saved myself from this...that way, I wouldn't have to worry about you!" The last few words were such with such force that Jesse took his hand away from his cheek.

Jesse pushed himself into a sitting position. "Worry about me?"

"Don't push me further into this situation," Duke said, retreating back into the wall so he was opposite Jesse. "I've gone as far as I can go. I've never stayed with anyone long enough to form any kind of bond or relationship. I don't remember my last girlfriend and I haven't had a proper friend since I dropped out of high school. Now I've been stuck with you for a full four hours and because I've become attached to you-in a way of talking and through help-I don't want to kill you or see you die in any way. That's what makes me so mad." Duke took a couple of breaths and Jesse didn't interrupt. "I used to _hate _killing. It wasn't really me you know. But after so long in this sort of business, you get used to it. That's why I've never thought about anyone else. And now _you._"

Jesse smiled weakly. "I'm no one special." Duke didn't reply but refused to comment on Jesse's remark. Then doctor didn't really understand how much the attachment to someone was hazardous to the man. "Why are you here, Duke? What brought you to LA? Let me rephrase that: who did you come to LA to kill?" Jesse watched the man's face. It didn't turn into anger, like last time, neither did it twitch from the question as though he was protecting himself. He just looked slightly uncomfortable. It was as though he puzzling over the answer. Duke knew that would be dangerous to both of them. It wasn't so much a hitman's code-well, it was. It wouldn't do much for his popularity if he blabbed his hits to a new found friend. But he had been so used to not doing it. Duke didn't have much of a conscience. One hit was another and the rest didn't count. Who died wasn't his problem. After all, he wasn't the one actually 'killing' them. Only physically. The person who hired him was actually killing them.

"I can't tell you that," he managed to say.

"Please don't start this again," Jesse remarked firmly. "I'm in this building with you, we got practically no way out. At least owe me an answer like that. I have no need to tell because when we _do _get out of here, you're going to run away to your corner of the world. I never knew you, I never met you. But tell me."

Duke sighed and looked up at the darkness of the corridor. They were now sitting down. In the darkened corridor without much light, all he was focusing one was a dead in the corridor, also invisible due to the smoke. "I've done some stupid things in my time, all right," he started. "I've killed and I don't regret a minute of it though. I've hurt, I've beat the hell out of, I've raped..."

"You raped women?" Jesse asked.

"Not just women." At Jesse startled and uneasy face he smiled. "Don't worry, I ain't gonna pin you to the floor. I'm just saying that I have. Most of these things have happened in remote desolate places: you know, out in deserts, forest, back alleys and such. Then this person comes to me-I'll leave names-and asks me to commit and murder in a crowd of people. Someone was needed to be disposed of for personal reasons and I agreed. I signed the contract, which was unusual but I was told I had to. I was meant to come here tonight and kill just one man, no one else."

"Who?"

"Carl Graves," Duke muttered.

Jesse's eyes widened. "Carl Graves. The guy who's birthday we were celebrating. Phew." He let out a breath and was surprised that he was not as shocked as he could be. "Did you?" Jesse watched as Duke's face turned into one of puzzlement.

"That's the point, I don't know?" 

"How can you not know! He was either not breathing or he was. I thought you could tell if someone was dead or not."

Jesse was about to say something else but Duke cut him off. "I managed to sneak into the party and I spotted the guy I was meant to by photographs. I even saw the person who had asked me to do the job. Well, a little later on, I crept behind the stage where he was. The thing was, he was already kinda half dead...he was swaying and gagging on the floor, like he was running out of air. He was choking and dying at my feet. Then suddenly, he stopped. Just collapsed on the ground like that and didn't move. I panicked, of course, not sure if this was an accident or not. But to be sure the job was done, I put the bullet in his back."

He let out a sigh again. "Then the woman comes on, screams, and then come two cops and this other lieutenant who was at the party-your friend. He chased me down the stairs and into the parking lot. You know what happened there."

Jesse nodded. "So technically, he was already dead when you shot him. That means you could be in the clear for this particular murder." Jesse frowned in thought. "That means someone else wanted Carl Graves dead." Jesse paused and then looked at Duke. "Wait a minute, if you ran down to the parking lot and someone was chasing you, you couldn't have started this fire or trapped us in the lift." Jesse looked round at Duke with a shocked expression, realizing what he was saying. Duke let this register into his brain first but shifting his face towards Jesse as well.

Duke narrowed his eyes. "There's another criminal roaming around here and he's a bit more messy than I am."

*-*-*-*-*-*-*- OKAY-err-well, that's all I can give at the moment. Sorry it took so long but I've been preparing a few things. I won't have another chapter for a week or so cos I'm going into hospital for an operation Hopefully I will come out alive, lolol. Please read and review. I'd much appreciate it! Enjoy 


	7. Part 1--Chapter 7

**THE SHAFT**

Part 1 — Chapter 7

Jesse stood up and paced the corridor reverently. His face was a picture of total concentration as he thought of a way to get out of here. Some parts of him thought that this was the most absurd situation he'd ever been in. "Okay, this may not be as bad as I looks," he said to himself out loud. Duke watched him, a small smile on his face. "I'm still trapped in a burning building but it can't be too bad. At least I know the hitman I'm with won't shoot me through the head—partly because he hasn't got a gun." He ran a hand through his tousled hair. He could feel the soot and grime in it from the smoke "Oh man, I need to get out of here. I think I'm suffering from claustrophobia." Jesse looked up and smiled. "That's it, claustrophobia."

Duke looked up at him, his eyebrows raised. He was already finding it slightly difficult to breathe because of all the smoke. His eyes were red as though he had been crying. "I don't get ya."

Jesse's grin widened even more. "When someone is packed up tight and they don't like it, all they have to do is go somewhere where it not so tightly packed—like lots of air."

Duke rolled his eyes, wondering whether it was just him who was mad. "I think the smoke of the high altitude is affecting you brain kid. We know we gotta get outside, but we just don't know how."

"Well, it's the floors below that are burning. So we just have to go up."

"Oh yeah, great, then what? Jump off and hope someone catches us? Like you said before, we forgot to pack our emergency parachutes." He got to his feet, regretting it as the smoke hit his face but stumbled towards Jesse. Blind abilities helped him reach Jesse and he crouched low again. He really thought that the doctor's thinking had something wrong with it. He wasn't speaking any sense.

"In case you have forgotten," Jesse continued with patience that seemed genuine, "most buildings have iron ladders running down the side of them. We just climb down—ta da! We make it out free. You go off to the next person you're meant to kill and I go back to my next patient. And we both remember…this _never _happened."

Duke shook his head in disbelief. "Frankly, that is the most insane and un-thought of plan I have ever heard of in my life." He looked down the corridors and the shouts from the floor below. That got him panicking. "Well, if we don't want to be caught going down, we may as well go up. I suppose this is easier than climbing up that elevator shaft as we did. Let's go." Both of them continued to the end of the corridor and out of the fire exit. But instead of going down, they continued to go up until they reached the roof. Doing it by going up several hundred stairs was hard work and by the time they reached the top, they were exhausted. Jesse's legs were beginning to hurt him.

Duke pushed open the door to the roof and they went outside onto the top of the roof. "Finally, fresh air and nothing stuffy." He took a moment to survey the area. The sky was pitch black but the smoke from the building covered most of it. Carefully, Duke crept towards the edge of the building and looked over. At the front, there were policemen. A few onlookers were still hovering but most of the people were the fire crew and the policemen. "Don't let anyone see you," Duke said. "We're too close to get caught now." Jesse looked round at Duke near the edge.

"How bad is the drop?" he asked cautiously.

Duke's head twisted round, a playfully cruel smile forming on his lips. "Suicidal," he shouted back at him. Jesse gave him a stern glare. "How am I supposed to know. Meters and feet are all the same length to me. I can tell you it's a long way down. The fire engines look like something from a play city set." Jesse groaned and crouched to walk to the other side of the building. Around the rest of the building, there didn't seem to be anyone else there.

"Hey, Duke, I found a ladder. There's no one on this side. If we're going to get away with this, we may as well go down now."

Duke shrugged. "This never happened," he murmured ever so quietly to himself. Duke was used to heights. He had been on top of buildings before and jumped up—not from such a great height though. He swung one of his legs over after Jesse and felt his feet hit the iron steps. Jesse was already half way down the first flight. He followed him down, trying to tread quietly, so that no one would notice. Not a word was exchanged between them as they carried on going down. Suddenly, Jesse stopped, and in the totally darkness, Duke didn't see him and almost slammed into him. "What are you, doing get a move on," he hissed.

Jesse shook his head and pulled Duke down so they were crouching. "Where else could they have gone?" someone asked, who Jesse instantly recognized as Steve. He watched them round the building. Jesse couldn't see much in the darkness but he could tell that Steve was tired just by his voice. He obviously wasn't giving up. He could have done so whenever he wanted. But he hadn't. "Are you sure he didn't pass the seventh floor?"

The other man, much larger but shorter, shook his head. He was dressed in a fireman's uniform. He must have been hot. "Impossible. I got a dozen men up on that floor. They would have spotted two people." He shook his head yet again. "Nope, the only way I can see them getting out is if they went up, or of course, if you got the wrong elevator and they're in another one."

"Then we should check them. I gotta get Jess out of there."

"I'm already on it. I'm just worried about that potassium still up…" the fireman said and they walked back round. Jesse waited until they were out of sight and then straightened up again, Duke copying his moves. 

"That's your cop friend, ain't it?" he asked and Jesse simply nodded as he carried back down, turning to head for the next flight of stairs. He stopped when he heard Duke's next comment. "Well, he sure seems to worry about you." He paused at the bottom of the stairs. Steve was a great friend—one of the best he could ever ask for along with Mark and Amanda. They seemed to be more friends that the rest of them in his life put together. No one had really bothered to look out for him much before. Steve was trying to get him out of here—well technically he already was out.

"What of it," Jesse remarked, carrying on down. Duke didn't reply and followed Jesse at a slower pace. He could have kicked himself. Maybe if he had kept up the horrible hitman attitude he would never have become fond of the smaller man. For some reason, he didn't want this to end. It had been enjoyable talking to him, sharing some crude joke and taking jibes at each other. It was the longest amount of time Duke could remember spending with someone. Inside he thought it was great but even deeper he knew it was wrong. _You're a hitman_, he thought to himself angrily. _You don't have feelings. You're a rock. You're hired to kill, not to make friends. You know you're meant to kill this guy when you get down. You can't afford him running around telling stories. Shit, I said too much to him. _

"Well, at least you'll have somewhere and someone to go back to after this hell workout," Duke said, looking around as they carried on. He hoped he didn't sound too remorseful. He just couldn't stand the silence. In the background where voices and cries and here they were, calmly walking down a ladder on the side of a hotel.

Jesse looked over his shoulder. "Why, where do you go after this?"

Duke shrugged. "Somewhere—definitely have to get out of California. Have to keep my distance from here for a while. Maybe head back to Chicago. There're a lot of people that hook up with me there and ask for quite a few jobs. Easy place to get a load of money—bit rough parts of town but nothing I can't handle."

Jesse nodded feeling slightly sympathetic towards Duke. However much the other man tried to hide it, he was depressed. "What would you like to be?"

Duke laughed bitterly. "If you think that I'd like to become a doctor like you then you've got to be kidding. Isn't quite in me and there's too much of this educational stuff to go through it. I can't believe you would spend over five years of your life dedicated to learning this." He shook his head yet again. "I dunno what I want to be. Don't care about the job. Just want to be someone normal sometimes."

Jesse sighed. "Everyone wants that, if they know what normal is." They were on the last few flights of stairs now. "Well, once we hit the bottom, that's it. The adventure ends here. I can't quite think how _fun _it's been but it's definitely been one hell of an experience. Saying 'seeing you around' won't quite work this but see you around anyway." He held out his hand towards Duke. Duke looked at it strangely. No one had ever offered him a peace offering before let alone to say goodbye. The only times he'd eve shaken hands when he closed the deal to kill someone. He was about to take it when a horrible sensation broke it all off.

The side of the building exploded, spraying outwards. It came from the seventh floor again, where the fire had started. The iron ladder, shook violently from the blast and snapped away from the burst and started to fall. Jesse didn't have time to say anything. They were such a short distance from the ground but he had been so unprepared that the shock was delayed. All he felt was that he was falling, still standing on the ladder. He heard Duke swearing beside him again, and as the ground came closer, Jesse closed his eyes, not able to hold out his hands in time.

He slammed into the ground, his head hitting it painfully. Jesse thought he saw all the stars in the universe. When he opened them, slowly, he couldn't see anything. He was lying on the ground, his head to the side. But his head hurt too much to move at all. As the blackness became color, he could see Duke beside him. The other man's eyes were still closed and a large gash was across his forehead, a worrying amount of blood coming from it.

_Damnit, broke the promise, _Jesse said to himself as he closed his eyes again.

* * * * *

When Steve and Jim Ross had turned round to head around the building again, Ross was talking about the potassium again. It really worried the fireman that since they had used water on the liquid potassium that there could be an explosion. He knew how dangerous potassium was when it reacted with water. He couldn't believe that he had been so stupid and not used foam or something like that instead. He was relaying his thoughts to Steve for a few minutes when his worst fears were concluded.

The explosion shattered through the right side of the building, where the party had been going on in the first place. It exploded, throwing concrete and sparks of fire everywhere. Steve left Jim Ross to his stunned expression and ran to the side but by the time he got there, most of the damage had been done. It was nothing terribly serious—not as bad as it looked inside the building anyway. From the seventh floor down, the stairway had fallen and a few bits of rubble had fallen. There was a hold in the wall where had there once been a dinner party. It just got worse and worse as the night progressed.

Then Steve saw something else that almost made his heart leap into his throat. "Jesse?" he asked. Ignoring Jim Ross's cries that there could still be falling pieces, he raced past the fallen concrete to his friend. Jesse was lying face down on the ground, his head turned away from him. As Steve knelt beside his friend and turned his head, he could see the blood on his face and the side of his head. Jesse didn't respond when he called him. Steve wasn't a doctor, but having one as a father proved useful. He knew about concussions and the fatalities of it. Then he spotted the other man next to Jesse, also unconscious; a deep cut on his forehead. He could recognize him as Duke Lotella. Steve's blood ran cold as he wondered how long Jesse had spent with this man—he wondered how many of Jesse's injuries were actually done by Lotella.

"Someone get the paramedics here!" he shouted before standing up and looking at Ross. "I have to go with him."

Ross looked at him in disbelief and spread his arms. "What about this?"

"This is not my problem. I'm a cop. I caught the man who started this and now it's your job to clean this mess up. I came here to look for my friend and I found him." Ashamed to admit it, Ross knew that Steve was right. He was the fireman, this was his job. Steve Sloan had done his bit. He stormed off, already issuing orders concerning the current blast on the side of the building. The paramedics arrived and Steve watched as they strapped both Jesse and Duke Lotella onto the stretchers and placed them inside the ambulance. Steve rode in Jesse's one, leaning his head back against the vehicle thanking that at least one of the dangers was over.

By the time he got the hospital, he was half-asleep, though. Steve woke himself up and hopped out of the ambulance and waited as the paramedics wheeled them both inside. Inside there, he met Pete Taylor, who was luckily on the night shift. If there was any other doctor that Steve trusted apart from his father and Jesse in ER, it was Pete Taylor. "What happened?" he asked.

"The San Rene Hotel fire," Steve said.

Pete nodded. "Don't worry, I'll get right on it. I don't think the cases look too serious. Jeanie! Come with me, we have two to deal with. Get Dr Smidt to help us as well." Pete walked off quickly, following the two gurneys as they were wheeled into a room on the other side of the corridor. Steve watched them, knowing it was useless to follow. He'd only be pushed out or be in the way. And he knew how strict Pete was when it came to _his _rules in ER. Steve knew that his dad and Amanda would want to know what happened so he turned back and headed for the sleeping lounge. He was surprised that leaving them for two hours, they were still awake.

Amanda saw him first as he entered the room. "Steve?" she said slightly puzzled. "You were back quickly." She saw that Steve looked slightly down as he nodded and sat down on the bed beside her.

Mark could also see the look on his son's face. "Steve, what's wrong, has something happened? Is it about Jesse…?" The broke half way through to let out a sigh of relief when his son shook his head, saying that wasn't the case.

"No, don't worry, it's not that. We found Jesse, though. He was with Duke Lotella. They must have been climbing down the stairs or something on the side of the building. Jim Ross found that the case of the fire was the result of liquid potassium traces in the room. When water and got to it—kaboom. But because the fire crew had been spraying water, it didn't take long for the potassium to ignite again. It tore a hole right through the wall, and dislodged the ladder. Jesse and Duke Lotella landed on the ground. They were both unconscious by the time I got to them—Pete's checking them over now."

Mark got up. "I think I'd better go and see how he's doing. Amanda, you and Steve stay here. I think you've all had one long night so I suggest you at least try and get some sleep. I'll go and see Pete." With those orders, Mark walked out of the sleeping lounge and down the corridor to find Pete. He spotted him coming out of examination rooms and walked over to him. "Pete, how's it going?"

"Oh, hi, Mark." Pete nodded. "It's fine, nothing serious at all. Both of them have concussions, a few bashes and such but nothing life threatening at all. The other guy, Duke Lotella, we mended his arm and had to put together his dislocated shoulder. Jesse's fine. In fact, he should wake up tomorrow with just a headache. We've given him some painkillers, though."

Mark smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Pete." The nightmare was over…

…Supposedly

* * * * *

Duke Lotella's head was killing him. He felt as though there was a giant bowling ball rolling around in his head and every time it moved it hit him full force. His shoulder, which when he previously woke up was killing, was now reduced to a dull throb. His arm felt much better. He had no idea what had happened to him, though. The last thing he knew was there was a sidewalk coming up to meet him. He had been walking down a ladder—he had been walking down a ladder with that kid doctor, Jesse. Man, was he still there? Or had someone found him. Duke prayed he was still on the ground.

Slowly, the man opened his eyes and instantly closed them when the light painfully hurt him. Then he tried opening them again. "That's it, Mr. Lotella, open them a bit wider and take a good look around." Duke could tell the voice was mocking him. So, not wanting someone to get the better of him, he opened his eyes and saw two people standing and looking at him. There were similarities in both men, although one was older and dressed in a lab coat and white hair. Whereas the other was much younger, dressed in street clothes and light, almost blond hair.

Duke recognized one of the men—the younger. He recognized him from the chase that he had been doing in the parking lot. He had been the one that Jesse was always talking about…the cop. Duke didn't know whether to be happy or whether to be sad. Jesse had talked of this cop as being a good friend and unlike most cops, actually had a sense of sentimentality in him. Duke didn't really understand what the words meant but he could manage enough. But he also knew, like all cops, that their reps were good. 

Duke groaned and turned his head away from the light that burned his eyes. "God, please tell me I died and went to hell," he muttered. "I don't want this to be real life."

"Oh, it's real, Mr. Lotella," Steve said, snapping off the examination light. Duke blinked once but didn't say anything. "I can hardly say you were caught red handed but you were caught eventually. Must have been very hard for you, coping in an elevator shaft, getting out and then wandering around without your gun, even though you had a hostage."

Reality hit Duke and he sat up in bed, despite his arm. Pain seared through his right arm and shoulder but he ignored it. "Jesse! Where is he? Is he all right?"

The other man pushed him back. "Mr. Lotella, with the strain that has been put on that arm of yours, I don't think it would be very safe if you moved it too often. I advise you…"

"Push off old man," Lotella hissed venomously, which would often leave people withering in fear in their seats. But this doctor didn't seem the least bit intimidated. Even more frustrated by that he then looked back at Steve.

"Jesse is fine," Steve said. "After whatever you had done to him, I think he got over it."

Lotella frowned in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about. I didn't do anything to Jesse. He was _helping _me. We helped each other get out of that building."

Steve Sloan smiled slightly. "I'm sure you did," he said sarcastically. "I've never known Duke Lotella, the most professional hitman in all of America, to be able to help someone. Maybe you just threatened him in that elevator or in that building to get what you want. Did you tell him not to talk? Did you threaten that you'd be back if he spilt anything."

Duke shook his head and leant back, a cruel smile on his lips. "You're off it. You really have lost it. I didn't do anything to Jesse Travis. We would have died in that elevator but we got each other out. How do you think I would have hurt him? I'd been shot in the arm and my gun was in a broken elevator. What was I going to do, punch his face in." The others didn't answer and a thick silence descended. Duke stopped being so confident. "Oh this is bull!" He started to get out of bed. "I want to see Jesse Travis."

Mark pushed him back onto the bed, against his wishes. The hitman was strong, especially when he wanted to do something but because he was weak from his ordeal and there were two of them in the room, they got him down. "Oh no, you're not," Steve replied. "You're not going anywhere near him and you never will again. I have no idea what you did but it must have been good." He leant close to Duke. "If you did _anything _to Jesse whilst in that building, I'll be taking the law into my own hands. If you so much as scratched him, you'll be begging me to pull the trigger against your head." Both Sloan's walked out, leaving Duke Lotella in the hospital room by himself. He looked in confusion as the guard outside his door resumed his position.

"What the hell?" Duke said to himself.

END OF PART 1


	8. Part 2--Chapter 1

****

THE SHAFT

Part 2 — Chapter 1

That conversation had taken place the day after the event. Jesse had woken up a few hours afterwards and three days later, after assuring everyone that he was all right, was back on his feet again and doing his rounds at the hospital. He was glad to be back again but there was a feeling of guilt in his system. He knew Duke Lotella was at the hospital. He hadn't been avoiding him. The guard refused to let him into his room. Steve had refused to let the guard allow Jesse to enter. Jesse had been confused why. He had told them time and time again, Duke Lotella wouldn't do anything to him. He just knew it. Even though they were in the hospital, from that conversation he and Duke had had in the corridor, Duke wouldn't do anything to him…Steve wasn't convinced.

"Jesse, the man's a hired killer. He's a walking life destroying machine. What did he do to you to make you gain his trust? The minute you'll walk in there, he'll try and kill you."

Jesse rolled his eyes. "Steve, I spent the best part of seven hours with him not _just _in the elevator. I've told you the whole story. I know he won't do anything so just trust me."

Steve still flatly refused. "No, Jess. It's bad enough that you were trapped in there with him anyway. I'm sorry I did that. If there's any way I could have changed that and shot him again, I would have."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't."

Amanda raised her eyebrows at him. "Jesse, what's up with you? The man kills people. It's the total opposite of what you do? Why should you be allowed to go back in there as if you were old friends."

"Guys," Jesse said, coming into the middle of the room, "he's not some out of the ordinary Martian. He's a human being as well, as much as you or me. Just because of his profession doesn't give anyone the right not to listen to him. I spent seven hours with him and I found a totally different side to him. I mean, I got him out of the elevator and then we made it back down. We had some major talking. Come on."

Even Mark shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jesse," he said, with as much feeling as he could muster. "It's just not possible. He'll be leaving in a few days anyway. He killed Carl Graves, he has to go to prison."

"But he didn't."

Amanda sighed with exasperation. "There's a hitman at the party and then someone dies. Does it take that long to put two and two together."

Jesse's hands clenched at his sides. "Man, why won't you just _listen _to me. If you could just let me talk to him, I could find a few things out. I'm not a kid or anything, and it's got nothing to do with a knock on the head. He didn't brainwash me or threaten me or anything. I had no choice but to spend time with him and get to know him and if you can't believe that there's more to one side of a person than his bad one, then I'm sorry you feel that way. But I don't."

With that, Jesse stormed out of the doctor's lounge, not caring about the eyes of his friends, staring worriedly at him. Jesse turned and went to his next patient fifteen minutes early. He was angry but eventually he calmed down. In a couple of hours, he had calmed down and realized what he said. He returned back to Mark and Amanda, who were both in the pathology lab and apologized to them. Mark and Amanda smiled, accepting it. "I'm sure it was a bit of traumatic experience for you," Mark assured him. "But you don't need to worry."

"Thanks," Jesse said appreciating it. He looked at the body covered by a sheet. "Who are you working on?"

"Believe it or not, this is Carl Graves," Amanda said, lifting the sheet. Jesse grimaced. "His wife allowed us to do another autopsy on him. This time I found something interesting. There was a bullet in his back but that wasn't that killed him. I would say that from the damaged tissue, he died at 8.20pm. But then I did the autopsy again and found something strange in his system."

"A poison?" Jesse asked.

Amanda frowned. "How did you guess?" Jesse shrugged, not sharing what Duke had told him earlier. "Well, yes it was a poison. Cyanide in fact. Now, it's a very fast acting, depending on what form it's in. He drank it, it would have take him less than a minute and a half to die. This would have had to have been administered before the bullet."

"You mean he was poisoned in his glass before shot?" Mark said, puzzled. "That doesn't sound like the MO of a hitman…especially Duke Lotella."

"That's because Duke didn't do it," Jesse said. "Okay, he shot him, but when would Duke have had the time to get Cyanide and who from? Well, maybe one of the doctors at the party but it's too easy to get caught."

"Someone did burn the place down," Mark pointed out. "In terms of forensics, we have got practically nothing. We can't even find any fingerprints."

Jesse nodded, confused as well. He left them to it and went to do his next rounds. He was thinking about going to see Duke, somehow slip past the guard and see Duke. He owed him that much. It would have been so much easier if the building had never blown up at that minute. Maybe if he hadn't stopped to give his hand then they would have made it out in time. Duke would have been able to run away and wouldn't be stuck here. He would no doubt go to prison now. Maybe he didn't kill Carl Graves first, but he still had intentions to. Jesse eventually lost all his thoughts as he absorbed himself in his work. After several patients came in from a car accident, he had to keep his mind on the job or else he would get nowhere.

But finally, his shift ended for the afternoon. He got a sandwich, which he ate quickly and then decided he would go back and see if he could get into Duke's room. It had been on the other side of his room. Steve had meant well when he said protection. He made it there and stopped. Jesse was mildly surprised to find that the guard wasn't there anymore. _You better have not tried to run away, _Jesse thought to himself as he walked up to the door. Carefully, he opened the door and what he saw almost made him recoil in surprise and laugh at the same time. Mark, Steve and the security guard were all in the room, practically wrestling with Duke Lotella, who held a syringe in his hand.

Despite the fact that it was three against one, Duke did have a good build and a syringe in his hand. Jesse had no idea what was in the syringe and it could prove fatal to someone if they should accidentally get injected with it. He walked further into the room. "That's not a good idea, Duke," he said to him.

The hitman looked up at him. "'Bout time you got in here. They were going to hit me with something," he said, looking at the syringe.

Jesse rolled his eyes. "It's probably just a sedative or painkiller." He walked over to Duke. Mark, Steve and the security guard watched him warily. "Hand it over before you get caught for doing something and get sent down for something else as well."

Duke sighed and placed the syringe in Jesse's outstretched hand. Steve and Mark watched in amazement. "It's your fault I'm here," Duke muttered.

Jesse didn't look at Duke in the eyes. "I couldn't help that. I can't say I'm happy with it either. I did promise." He spent his time checking the syringe and lifted the sleeve of Duke's garment. "I didn't know that the building was going to explode and we were near to the bottom anyway." Carefully, he inserted the needle into Duke's arm. The hitman winced and closed his eyes but then calmed down when the needle was taken out. "Wasn't that bad."

Duke looked down at his arm. "Met with worse, I guess." He turned his head up to look at Steve, Mark and the security guard. "You sure took your time coming. I thought you were going to run away and forget what had happened."

"We were supposed to."

_"Only _if I got away. And I didn't." He looked back at Jesse. "Tell these guys to get lost. We need to talk about a few things and I don't want to see any guys listening to us."

Jesse looked at his watch and sighed. "I can't right now. I start my shift again in five minutes."

"Typical."

Jesse narrowed his eyes. "You're acting like some kids from pediatrics department. As soon as I finish my shift, I'll come back. It's a short one and besides, I've got one tonight as well."

Duke sighed. "Fine." He watched Jesse walk out and then the other people in the room. The guard resumed his position outside the door. Steve and Mark looked at each other as they followed Jesse out. They caught the young doctor as he was walking away out of the corridor. Steve was amazed by what had just happened there. In all his years in the police force, he had never seen anything like it.

He walked over to Jesse and called out to him. The young doctor turned around. "You really do get along with him don't you," Steve said in disbelief. Jesse simply nodded. "It's the first time I've seen anything of it's kind and I'm sure it won't be the last. You actually gained the trust of a hitman and he gained your trust as well. You're acting as though you're old friends or something."

Mark smiled. "That is something extraordinary, from my point of view. He wasn't going to hurt you at all when he saw you. He look slightly disgruntled about a few things but you were like two friends jibing at each other."

Jesse sighed. "Now do you see I'm the only one that can get through to him."

Steve nodded and looked at his father. "He's got a point, dad. Jesse could be useful to get information out of Duke Lotella."

Jesse paused. "Hey, who said anything about getting information about Duke Lotella. I just want to be his doctor."

Steve put his arm around the other man. "Jess, a murder has been committed. Duke was hired to kill Carl Graves. Now, he didn't want Carl Graves dead, he was just assigned to do a job. The man we need to catch is the one who got Duke to do this. He's the real killer. You want the man put away don't you?"

Jesse nodded. "Would you give Duke immunity."

Steve looked at his father then at the room which held Duke Lotella in. "Jesse, that's a very hard decision for me to make. Part of me thinks that for all the people that he's killed, he shouldn't be allowed to stay on the streets and would be better behind a prison cell. Then again, from the show that you just put on in there, I'd be inclined to agree that he isn't as bad as his reputation." He sighed. "But…I can't help thinking that you're getting a little bit too attached to Duke Lotella. And that's not a very safe thing for either of you."

Jesse shrugged. "You don't need to worry, Steve. I'll be fine."

* * * * * 

Amanda Bentley looked around the reception for the Graves Health Offices. The building was very modern—practically made out of glass and iron. She was up in reception, just waiting. She didn't know what she was waiting for, though. With Carl Graves dead, she could hardly 'set up an appointment with him.' Steve had asked to come down and do a little nosing around if she had a free time after her shift. She went right after completing the second autopsy on Carl Graves. Something intrigued him about this conversation that his father had overheard with Machu and Dr Garrison. Steve knew he was going against his dad's orders when he asked Amanda to check things out about Machu. 

Now she was waiting outside the reception, wondering what on earth she could say to the receptionist to get past the next elaborate set of doors. Eventually, she found something to say and walked over to the receptionist, a woman in her early thirties, who was clicking madly at a computer. Amanda coughed to make her presence known. The woman stopped typing and then turned round. She put on a fake smile. "How may I help you?"

Amanda thought rapidly again as she lost her idea. "Oh, well you see…I'm from Community General Hospital. Machu Lie asked me if I could give a copy of the autopsy report on his desk. Do you mind if I just pop in there and drop it in for him."

The secretary looked at her. Amanda wasn't sure if it was skepticism. Did her story not stick? Or did she just not sound right? "Go right ahead," the woman said. "I'd probably forget anyway. Mr. Lie is at his lunch break right now but he'll back in half an hour if you want to say anything to him."

Amanda's smile froze. "Thanks," she said, hoping that she wouldn't even see Machu Lie let alone speak to him. She disappeared into the doors and spotted Machu's desk immediately. It was the only oriental one around.

Amanda looked around Machu's desk. It was neat and tidy. All files were packed alphabetically…all papers were neatly stacked in the 'IN' and 'OUT' section. A nice oriental desktop tidy sat on the mahogany desk, with several pens, elegantly created. Amanda marveled at the nice look of his desk. He even had a Japanese drape around the side with a simple design on it. Amanda wasn't interested in that, though. As she searched the top of the desk, she realized that there wasn't anything there. Why would Machu risk anything lying on his desk anyway?

She started to go through the draws. One was for stationary—the odd pens and papers, note pad and yellow post-its accompanied with envelopes of all sixes and colors. A stamp was also in the collection. That didn't help Amanda. She opened the cupboard, the next thing under the drawer. There was hardly anything in there except for one envelope. It was an orange yellow color and thick padded. Amanda took it out and pulled out a few sheets of paper.

_Dear Mr. Graves_, the one at the top said, _in this envelope I have enclosed your will, currently with all the claims you have asked. This is just a photocopy, though, please feel free to make any changes if you feel they are necessary…_the letter went on for a little bit more and was signed by Pickworth's Solicitors in downtown LA. Amanda quickly read through the will. Why did Machu still have it if it was sent to Carl Graves? Machu obviously did not want any change in the will. Reading through it, she quickly realized that Machu would earn over 75.6% of the whole company. No wonder he wouldn't want it changed.

Machu didn't seem like the competitive type, though.

She put the paper back in the envelope and as she put it back, she noticed some other sheets of paper. Kneeling down, she picked them up as well. "Wow," she said to herself as she read through the [ages. There were figures upon figures that Machu had done for the organization. He had invested a lot into the company and for it. He had made Carl Graves famous. He was the one who had the idea in the first. "Technically, this is all Machu's." Machu made Carl Graves and his wonderful hospital idea. Machu was a very smart man—so why was he sitting at a secretary desk?

It was only then that she noticed the flashes coming from Machu's phone. Pressing the message button she was rewarded by a sharp _beeep_, followed by the message itself. _Message dated, 12th April_

Machu, are you there? Carl Graves asked.

_Yes, I am here, Carl-o-san. How may I be of service?_

You know that little—uh—talk we had yesterday in the La Piazza restaurant. You know, about the will and everything.

Yes, Carl-o-san, I was meaning to talk to you about that sir. I do not believe your decision is wise as well as fair.

Well, I have come to my decision anyway. There is just not enough space in the will. I have to cut you out of the will in order to make my immediate family and such work. Considering I own the business, it does sound stupid if I gave it to you instead of my son.

But, sir, I—I made you," Machu said earnestly, like someone hurt his feelings. _Do I really deserve such repayment for everything I did for you?_

Oh, Machu, please don't put me in this situation…

I cannot believe you are doing this to me, Carl-o-san. I thought we had a friendship, a trust. I gave everything I could to you to make this company better. I molded you into a figure of fame and I thought you were my friend.

I am, Machu…

We were. Now that circle has been broken.

Amanda cut off the message as she heard someone coming. She had to be quick. She knew Machu would be suspicious if the papers disappeared. Some risks were worth taking so she took the tape out of the answering machine and replaced it with a blank one. Then, spotting a photocopier, she went over to it and photocopied the sheets quickly, hearing voices approach. When she had finished and realized the voices were heading elsewhere, she put the paper back, stuffed the photocopied sheets into her bag with the tape and walked out of the office.

She stopped, though, when someone passed her. The other man didn't seem to notice but Amanda instantly recognized him as Dr Garrison. Intrigued, Amanda went over to the receptionist's desk. "Excuse me, but the man who just left—can I ask what Dr Garrison is doing here?"

The receptionist looked at her plainly. "He is having an appointment with Mr. Machu this afternoon."

Amanda nodded. "Oh really? Did he ever have an appointment with Carl Graves?"

The receptionist, still expressionless, moved towards the book and thumbed through them. "Nope, sorry. Well, not recently anyway. His last visit was three months ago—about their hospital project."

__

Hope you are all enjoying the story so far. Please Read n Review, I'd much appreciate. Keeps the juices going, lol. Anyway, the story is actually going somewhere now. Happy Reading !!!

Halina


	9. Part 2--Chapter 2

****

THE SHAFT

Part 2 — Chapter 2

Jesse frowned at Amanda as he looked at her from across the table in the pathology lab. His eyebrows were raised. "Machu Lie?" he asked in disbelief. He shook his head as he took another sip from his drink he had taken from the cafeteria. "No way. I don't see it. Machu is too much of a sweet guy to do such a thing." He sat down on a seat, shaking the remains of the ice in the bottom of the carton cylindrical cup. "Have you ever seen the guy? He looks as though he recites poetry."

"As you have very well proved to us, Jesse," Steve said, "a person can have two sides. People snap eventually." He looked at the files Amanda had got for them. "I mean, let's face it, Machu practically created the idea of this chain of hospitals. He was the brains behind the whole operation. With Machu's help, Carl Graves expanded his operations from Germany into America and became a success—a millionaire. Then Machu is cut out of everything—his credibility and the will. It's a good motive for murder."

Mark sighed dejectedly. "He's got a really strong motive. But was he able to do it?"

Steve nodded. "I'm afraid so. We don't even need evidence for this one. Even I heard the whole thing—there was a confrontation back stage just before I returned to you, dad and Jesse had disappeared downstairs. Machu and Carl were arguing. Machu said, _here is your 'drink'_. He could have poisoned it when giving it to Carl. That cyanide bottle could be anywhere by now. When I looked behind after the argument, Machu was nowhere in sight. He could have just been hiding. Literally, a few minutes later, Carl Graves was dead." Steve looked over at his father and knew that he was feeling subdued about the whole affair. Considering he knew Machu Lie personally, it didn't make him feel any better.

Sometimes, this was just the way it worked out.

Mark shook his head. "It seems so unlike him. He was such a bright man. I never thought he's resort to something like this."

"Well," Steve implied, "with a case without any forensic evidence, the circumstantial one's the best we got. And we have enough circumstantial evidence to arrest Machu Lie for his murder. Even if we could find the cyanide bottle, it would be even better and proof that he hired Duke."

"You think that would be better?" Jesse asked.

Amanda cleared her throat. "What would be much better is if you stopped drinking in the pathology labs. You know that no one is allowed to eat or drink in here."

Jesse nodded meekly and put the cup in waste paper bin beside him. He leaned back in his chair, thinking about how complicated the case had gone. He had promised Duke he'd come after his rounds had finished. But from this latest news from Amanda, he wanted to hear it. It could be one way of finding who the real murderer was. There were still a lot of things that didn't fit, though, such as the fire. How could he have put it there? Maybe Machu had deposited the liquid potassium before he killed Carl Graves. Confused, Jesse shook his head and looked out of the door. Amanda noticed from where she was standing over the table, Jesse's expression change from confusion to shock and then anger. "What the hell is he doing here?" Jesse asked quietly that they could barely hear what he stood. The others turned round in the direction of Jesse's gaze and could tell immediately what was wrong. Standing at the reception desk was a tall, very blond man.

"Jesse, don't do anything stupid—" Mark started to say and got up to walk to Jesse. But he was too late. The young doctor had shot up from his seat and marched towards Jamie Condrack. The other doctor was looking totally confused in Community General and had no idea where he was going. He was almost inclined to ask the receptionist to help his way around but he decided against it. Waiting was better.

He was about to head down a corridor when someone grabbed his arm and spun him round. "What are you doing here?" the short man hissed at him.

Jamie's face turned from one of shock to almost delight but within his happy face, there was also a nasty malice to it. "Oh, well, if it isn't Dr Travis himself. Come to give me a warm greeting, have you?" he asked, his blond eyebrows raised and his face in a crude smile. Even with a menacing look, he was rather handsome.

"More like an icy reception," Jesse replied quietly. "Why are you here?"

"To see if you really did drop down seventy five feet into an elevator shaft." He looked at Jesse as though he was some insect. "Shame I have to come back and find that it isn't true. You're still roaming the corridors acting like a doctor. Tell me, did you have to bribe the Dean eventually—'I've been so good. I turned Jamie Condrack in and I know it was you who gave you the answers, don't you think you deserve to give me my graduation whether I pass or not."

Jesse pushed Jamie hard in the chest. The older man stumbled but didn't fall. "Everything I got I earned through all the work I did. I didn't need to bribe anyone. Why can't you see that what you did was wrong. You were taking answers and everyone knew it was you so why bother denying it. Even Shelly eventually saw it."

Jamie took a step towards Jesse menacingly. "You must have brainwashed her. It must have you been your 'natural charm' as you used to call it. You framed me and then made Shelly believe that it was my fault." It was his turn to push Jesse and the shorter doctor fell back against the door of one of the rooms

Jesse shook his head. "Well, at least I earned it all through a decent graduation. I spent all five years learning for my degree. I didn't cheat _once _in my life. I may have been a big joker in class, but I knew that if I were going to save lives properly, I wouldn't have to go to the Dean and ask him for them. And at least I didn't get my parents to cry and shout and send you to another posh school somewhere else. It must have taken them a lot to realize what you'd done and fight to get into another school knowing what you'd done—been a disgrace."

Jamie lost his patience and lunged for Jesse, aiming and punch but Jesse dodged. Both of them were locked together, trying to overpower the other. People were starting to watch. Mark, Steve and Amanda had been watching the trading of insults, wondering how much hate could two people have and wish to share out in the open with ears listening. It was like a point-scoring match where one person always had to get the upper hand. It was almost childish but by now, it had grown past petty insults. They knew, though, when enough was enough when the fight of word turned physical. Steve came forward and tried to pull the two men apart. But the anger of the two men had given them so much strength that Steve couldn't do it. Mark stepped in to help and eventually, after pushing and shoving, Steve held Jesse back whilst Mark held onto Jamie.

Jesse had managed to come out unscathed even though he was struggling in Steve's grip. He was itching for a fight. Jamie had a small trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth but he allowed Mark to keep him out.

He felt the blood on his lip and then wiped it away. Then he looked at Jesse. "Well, the least I can be truthful about is that my parents did actually care. I didn't need a rich mother and at least my father didn't run away and leave me. I can't imagine what it had been like, constantly trying to impress them. It seemed to get you nowhere. When was the last time you saw dad, Travis? And did it make your mom proud? At least I didn't have to fight for their pride."

Steve felt Jesse tense up in his hands but the doctor calmed down quickly. It was almost as though he was giving up. "Well, if you've ever said anything truthful in your life, that was it." He shrugged Steve's grip and then wandered down the hall. He turned the corner. 

Amanda looked in amazement at the scene that had just taken place. Jamie wiped the rest of his blood on his hand. Mark and Steve watched Jesse disappear down the hall as Amanda walked over to Jamie and stood in front of him. "You are some piece of work," she said to the doctor. "I don't know a lot about you but I think I got everything I needed to ever know from that scene just now." Amanda wasn't as mad as Jesse. But she couldn't understand how two people could hate each other so much that it was possible to say things like that.

Jamie didn't seem at all flustered. "If you were in my shoes ma'am, you'd do the same thing to the man who almost ruined your future."

"I'd be a little more mature about it."

Mark shook his head. "This isn't what we're meant to be talking about. What are you here Jamie? Surely it's not about Jesse Travis and to play this who can insult most game."

Jamie shook his head and brought out a small bottle. "No, it's about this." He held it up and on the label where the words CYANIDE.

* * * * *

****

Duke looked carefully at the man who was checking his temperature and heart rate. There was something about the doctor that confused him. He didn't act like a doctor. It was as though doing this was all boring. Something was distracting him from his normal routine and that didn't make Duke feel better. The doctor was frustrated, thinking about something, due to the look on his face and the small frown that he wore. "Something wrong, kid?" Jesse shook his head and continued checking, avoiding eye contact. "Oh really? You haven't even said a proper hello, how are you, today. Something's up."

Jesse sighed and put the instruments down. "Nothing serious. Just an old rivalry with doctors—me being one of them—ending up in a punch out." He sighed again; more frustrated Just thinking about Jamie made him tense up with anger again. He was happy he had delivered that punch out and cracked his lip. But it didn't satisfy him. He guessed that for a hate that had stretched for so long, one lip bleeding wasn't going to cut it.

Duke laughed and settled back against the pillows. "Man, if that's rivalry for doctors, I'd hate to see rivalry among hitmen."

"So would I." Jesse sat down in a chair and leaned his head back. "We're also trying to solve this case. I know why Carl Graves looked half dead before you shot him and fell to a heap on the ground." Duke looked inquiringly at him. "Traces of cyanide poison were found in his system. He must have drank it within a few minutes before you shot him." Jesse sighed. "That doesn't really help you get away. Forensics have your gun and they matched the bullets in there to the one that you plugged into Carl." Jesse ran a hand through his hair. "We're in a mess. There's no way we can clear your name."

Duke's eyes narrowed. "I never should have been here in the first place." Jesse didn't look at him. "If we had just carried on going down, I could have got away. But we got stalled. Now I'm in a hospital bed and there's no way I could get out of here. I could be back out on the streets again, in Chicago, doing my job." Duke's anger was growing and he grabbed onto Jesse's arm because of it. He was mad at Jesse. Jesse had been the one who landed him here. Duke was just violent by nature. He couldn't help it when his anger for the better of him. He had been taught—and his job required him—to hurt. Jesse's eyes widened in panic and he tried to break free of the grasp, tugging from Duke's vice like grip on him.

"Duke, you're hurting me." He tried to get through to the man but it made no different. He was still talking, racing on like a steam train. 

Duke knew he had heard this kind of speech before. Jesse had given him one like this when they were inside the building. "But no, I'm stuck in here with a one way trip to a jail cell—probably even Death Row." When he shouted the last two words, he realized what he was doing. Reality sunk in. He let go of Jesse's wrist and then young doctor pulled it back, a red strip around his wrist. He held on to it, rubbing it to take the throbbing pain away. Duke's mouth dropped for a second and he faced away from Jesse, staring at the door in front of him, and the figure of the guard outside the door. "I'm sorry," Duke said quietly. "I didn't mean to do that. It's just that…I'm mad. I can't stand being in here, knowing what's going to happen."

"You're going to have to face up to it," Jesse said as a matter of factly.

Duke looked round at Jesse. "Doc, I'm a _killer,_" he said. "All I got to face up to is an electrocution or injection. I want to be out there again. I'm a killer and even if I have to kill every doctor in this hospital including you, I will make it out." 

Jesse shook his head. The hazy forms of an idea were coming into his mind. Jesse thought that it was rather risky but was it worth doing. "I know you're never going to tell me who hired you," he said. "That would make you a dead man. But have an idea about how I can get you out without anyone noticing. You could practically just waltz out of here but it will take a few days." He looked to make sure the guard outside the door wasn't listening in or looking at them to make sure anything was going on. In fact, the guard spent most of his time either watching the TV down the corridor, or having a conversation with passing nurses under twenty-five.

"I don't have a few days. Doc Sloan says I'll be out of here by tomorrow. I'm well enough as it is, he says, and then it's straight down to the LAPD. And besides, there is a guard out there. Soon, they'll have the bomb squad here in case I explode as well."

Jesse smiled for a second but then turned serious again. He shook his head. "There is a way I can keep you here."

Duke raised an eyebrow. "How?"

Jesse grimaced. "It's not particularly pleasant. In fact it's horrible. But there's something I can give you, which will make you vomit, give you a rising temperature and make you feel as though you want to die. It's nothing serious, though. You'd get better within a few days and by that time, I can have you out of the hospital. I have just thought of a way."

"That don't sound too pleasant." Duke didn't sound to enthusiastic

"I could cut off your leg."

"Well, throwing up does sound better than a blood mess," Duke reconsidered. "Okay, we'll go for it." He paused and looked at Jesse, who had once again, returned to looking very frustrated. "Why are you doing this for me, Jesse. I mean, I'm a hitman who, once I get out, will only start killing again. I mean, we are friends—kind of—but I don't want you putting off your job and your doctor thing just to get me out of here." He wasn't quite sure what reaction he was going to get from that. It was one of the most sentimental things he had ever said in his life and even though he had known Jesse for about a week, his own personality had greatly changed. He didn't know about Jesse so he didn't know the reaction. He wasn't expecting an explosive one.

"I am _not _your friend!" Jesse shouted, his hands shaking as he turned and rounded on Duke. "I don't want to be your friend. You're causing me trouble ever since I met you in that elevator. It's all getting too much now. I know you didn't kill Carl Graves but my friends think you did. I don't know whose side I'm meant to be on. I mean…you're a _hitman! A Killer! _You said yourself. And here I am, trying to bust you free. You almost killed me when we inside that building. I almost—almost—wished you had. But don't talk to me about being friends."

Duke's eyes narrowed again, a sure sign that he was getting angry, Jesse realized. Duke pulled the covers off from him and got out of bed, standing up. In any other circumstance as a doctor, he would have pushed him right back but he didn't. He wasn't sure whether it was because he was afraid of what Duke might do or something stupid nerve inside of him decided to act tough even though he wasn't. "Believe it or not, kid, I don't want to be your friend either. I know that I'm not meant to be. The common sense is up in that. And deep down, I know that I'm still supposed to sneak up behind you and break your neck. I can't afford you running around and telling everything I've said to you. The thing is, I don't care about anyone else because I don't know them. But I know you and I know that if I kill you, I'd have a guilty conscience. Don't get me wrong, kid, I still wanna kill you. I have been thinking about it."

Jesse shook his head. "You're not scaring me."

"Good. Then you are somewhat tougher than you look. But don't give me any crap about friendship. This would never have happened if I'd gotten away. The pact about forgetting this ever happened would have worked." His dark brown eyes flashed slightly as he looked down into Jesse's blue ones.

"That is _why _I'm trying to get you out," Jesse cried back, throwing his hands in the air. "I want to forget this ever happened. I don't want to think that I met you in an elevator, saved your life and then ended up to doing this. I just want to come to the hospital every day, get on with my rounds, maybe do a little detective work with Steve or Mark—not regret things I've done with a killer."

Duke nodded. "Good, at least we got something sorted, 'cos I'm losing money the longer I sit in here. Now, you do what you have to do, doc, but you get me out of here."

"With pleasure," Jesse snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Without looking back, he started heading towards the door.

Duke watched the smaller doctor leave. His anger had diminished now and he climbed back into the bed painfully. His arm still hurt. "Jesse!" he cried back. The other man turned round surprised that he had been called by his first name. It was either 'kid' or 'doc.' This had to be something important. His facial expression still made it look as though he had somewhere better to be so Duke decided to get it over and done with painfully. "I'm sorry."

Jesse smiled back at him. "I'm sorry too."

Duke sighed. "How bad is this virus thing going to be?"

Jesse shrugged. "It won't be bad at all. I'm gonna be your doctor, remember." Jesse shut the door quietly, hoping that the little white lie won't mean too much.


	10. Part 2--Chapter 3

****

THE SHAFT

Part 2 — Chapter 3

Steve put the photograph down on the kitchen table and then picked it back up again when he realized having such a photo when people were eating weren't such a good idea. The photo was of a young woman, with shoulder length black hair. She was wearing casual clothes, splattered with paint as she had been doing some DIY work in her own kitchen. She looked perfectly normal except that she was lying on her side on the floor, her eyes and body lifeless. She was Jeanie Morgstone, one of Carl Grave's lovers. "So, what's the story, if Jamie didn't really come to antagonize me," Jesse said, not flinching when he said the other man's name.

"He came round to us with a bottle of Cyanide," Steve explained. "Said that he found it in Jeanie Morgstone's cupboard."

"What was Jamie doing in Jeanie's flat?"

Steve gave him a sidelong glance. "They met each other at the party. Jeanie was upset because she had realized Carl Graves had dumped her. She ended up going home with Jamie. Things went kind of steady onwards from there. It seems that Jamie, this morning, found this in Jeanie's cupboard—this bottle of Cyanide. And you know that Cyanide was found in Carl's body."

Amanda nodded. "It makes sense for her to do this," she said. "I overheard her complaining to this other woman. Carl had dumped him. When she realized how Carl was now going out with, she flipped. Said that she would kill Carl. The fact that Jamie found the bottle with Jeanie's fingerprints on it still proves that she could be the killer. Then she realized, after the height of everything what she'd done, been sleeping with Jamie and murder, and killed herself."

Mark nodded this time. "Yeah. A suicide note was found."

Steve sat in thought for a moment. "What if Jamie forged it," he said and everyone else turned round to look at him questioningly. "I mean, Jamie has the bottle. He's a doctor, he could have done. He could have killed Carl Graves, even though his motives are unknown at the moment. Then, he goes to Jeanie Morgstone's house. Finds out that she has a motive to kill and plants it all. Then he kills her as well."

Mark shook his head. "You're forgetting a few things. Like, we know for a fact that Jamie went out of the room straight after Jesse. Cyanide takes a few minutes to work. He couldn't possibly have put it into Carl Grave's drink. As far as we know, he has no connection with Carl Graves. Besides, where would Jamie come up with the money to hire a killer."

Amanda then set her fork down. "Yes, and when would Jeanie have _time _to hire a killer? She only found out about the break up and said she would kill him during the party. She couldn't have hired the killer—she couldn't even have gotten the Cyanide that quickly."

Steve sighed. "Well, that gets rid of two suspects. But why would Jeanie kill herself."

"Depression, why else?" Jesse replied, making his way through the salad. "Let's face it—Jeanie just got dumped by the man she loved for one of her good friends. Then she ends up spending the week in bed with Jamie. She was as depressed as hell. She could see one way out—killing herself. Come on, Steve, even you would say that suicide is an easy way out for depressed people."

Steve nodded. "Technically, that only leaves Machu Lie. I hate to say it, but he seems like the most likely suspect. He has very strong means as well to kill—stronger than all of them if you ask me. All we need to do is find out how those Cyanide pills got to Jeanie's place and find a way of connecting Duke Lotella to Machu Lie." Steve turned to Jesse. "Have you got any breakthrough with Duke to find out who hired him?"

Jesse shook his head, trying to put on a regretful face. "Not yet, he's totally tight lipped, even with me. I've quit asking him for a while before he pounds my face into the ground." He laughed to himself and the others looked at each other.

Mark leaned across the table slightly. "Jesse, exactly how well _do _you know, Duke?"

Jesse looked up and smiled thinly. "Well, I spent my time with him in an elevator for seven hours. I didn't die. I mean…I get on with him because of that but that's about it. He doesn't want to kill me, if that's what you mean." He looked at Mark. "Why?"

"Oh, it's probably nothing," Mark said. "I'm just a little bit concerned, that's all. You won't do anything stupid, will you?" Mark knew he was using the same type of tone he did when warning Steve about something.

Jesse's hand clenched in his pocket, where he held a bottle that he had stolen from the hospital. "What would I do?" he asked and paused. "I'm just going to the—err—bathroom. I'll be back." He disappeared into the bathroom quickly and looked at himself in the mirror. Then he took out the small bottle. It was a liquid, clear and would blend in with the IV. The bottle itself was orange. Jesse sighed and took another big breath in as he realized what he was going to do. If _anyone _ever found out…He had said to Mark he wouldn't do anything stupid as well. Well, he didn't, he just made Mark assume that he wouldn't but it was practically the same thing. He didn't want to disobey Mark…

Back at the table, Mark watched the younger doctor get up and head for the bathroom. There was a slight frown on his face and his son noticed. "Dad, what's up?" he asked. "Something to do with Jesse?"

Mark nodded. "Yes, it does have to do with him. I'm concerned about him. He's spending a lot of time with Duke in that room. I get the feeling that they do actually get along."

"You don't think Duke manipulated Jesse then?" Steve asked.

Mark shook his head. "No, not at all. It's a genuine friendship. If you watch them in there it's like they've known each other for ages. They can have a conversation just as good as you and me and not talk about murder or threats. There was never any threatening involved in that. I think it's a good thing but I'm just worried about how far Jesse is going to take it with this friendship. The man is a professionally hired killer. It's dangerous for both of them to get involved in any kind of friendship."

Amanda looked over at her friend. "Mark, what are you trying to say?"

Mark shook his head. "I'm not even sure myself. It's strange. I can't even explain it myself. But if Jesse doesn't realize it just yet—that Duke Lotella is heading straight for prison. There's no way to escape it, considering the bullets match. Lotella is a hired killer so other killings will be taken into account. I just don't know how Jesse will react to it."

"That's why you think Jesse will do something stupid?" Steve asked.

Mark nodded. "I used to be worried about letting Jesse in there because Duke may attack him as they barely knew each other. But what I'm more worried about now is that they barely know each other now but they're going to get to know each other a lot more. And come that time when Duke has to go, we could have some major problems arising." Steve and Amanda both looked at him. Suddenly they didn't feel like eating.

Steve shook his head. "I don't see it. Dad, Jesse wouldn't do anything. He's…he's not stupid. He's been around with us long enough to know about criminals and _why _they have to be put away. He's been involved with women who have turned out to be killers. Yet, he did nothing about them."

Mark sighed. "Maybe you're right." From the tone of his voice, Steve and Amanda could tell that his son's words had actually penetrated through. Mark had just been slightly worried. Steve was definitely reassured by his own words. After several years, Jesse wasn't capable of such a thing. But Amanda folded her arms across her chest. As much as a friend Jesse was, she wasn't so sure…

* * * * *

Searing pain soared across him. Duke couldn't believe what was happening to him. He was sweating and soaking up the sheets. He felt so hot as though he was in the Bahamas. And the nausea…it was enough to make him faint. He thought he was going to pass out—he'd rather pass out than live with that horrible feeling forever threatening him and making his life hell. What's the more, the amount of shaking that had added to it, made his muscles ache from all the tension. He shook his head from side to side, the light blinding his eyes. Duke wasn't sure, but he could swear that at some point, he did pass out.

Jesse had come into his room earlier that day after he walked out. He asked once again if he really wanted to do this. Duke agreed and so Jesse slipped it from the bottle. _"What is it?" _Duke had asked. _"It's just a higher laxative. It shouldn't do much harm."_ Harm! Duke thought he was dying all over again. Jesse had slipped the laxative into the IV. All they could do was wait.

When Duke next opened his eyes, there were people all around him. They were talking words he didn't understand. One of the voices, he could swear he could recognize, but the nausea was just too much. He was being moved from his room to another one. When he opened his eyes clearly, he could see Jesse Travis was there. Looking around, he could see there was suddenly no one else in the room. He gripped the doctor's arm. "You lied to me," he said, distracting the doctor from his work.

Jesse looked down at Duke. "What? What could I have possibly lied to you about?"

"How it would feel," Duke answered, smiling grimly. "I feel like hell."

Jesse shook his head. "It's all going to be over soon. We give you some antibiotics, pain killers and the rest—well, the rest you have to throw up." He smiled slightly as Duke grimaced but the conversation ended abruptly when more physicians came into the room with Mark himself. They checked Duke over and eventually came to their conclusion about the fever due to the rising temperature and nausea. Jesse tried his best to not look so guilty but he didn't know how to not look guilty.

Duke had been given all the necessary medications and now returned to his room a couple of hours later. Jesse came out of the examining room where they had been. "Man, some wave, huh?" he said.

Mark nodded. "Yeah. Strange how it came over so quickly but I guess some things remain unanswered. I guess we're going to have to keep him for another few days." It was the statement Jesse had been waiting for. He looked at the young doctor that watched the gurney. "Are you going to go back in there with him?"

Jesse looked at his watch. "Yeah, I think so. My shift finished ten minutes ago anyway." He watched as Mark nodded and then carried on down the corridor. Jesse sighed and leaned against the wall of the hospital, letting out his breath slowly. Such things were risky—even though it was the first time he had done such a thing. Any small thing could cost someone their life; he knew that as a doctor. "What am I doing?" Jesse asked to himself the realization hitting him. Every so often, the reality of the situation flooded back into him and Jesse wondered why he was doing this. He had no connection with the man apart from a few hours. Why should he help him? The thrill of having something exciting to do?

Jesse turned away and walked down the hall towards Duke's room once again. What he was unaware of was the figure watching him from the pathology labs. Amanda had been totally concealed from view but had been eyeing Jesse since Duke Lotella had come out of the examining room. Something struck her as odd so she watched Jesse lean against the wall and then head down the corridor. Shaking her head, she returned inside. "I hope you know what you're doing Jesse."

A few hours later saw Jesse Travis still in the room with Duke Lotella. Both of them were sleeping but Jesse was in one of the nearby chairs, every so often shifting himself so he didn't feel too uncomfortable. He was only half-asleep, though. He was aware of the sounds around him and every time Duke started to retch or getting hotter of colder depending on the fever. But eventually, overwhelmed by the whole day, Jesse slunk into a sleep, thinking about the conversation the night before. _You won't do anything stupid, will you? _God, it was as though Mark 'knew.' But then again, Mark tended to know everything. What made him think he could pull this off? Mark had solved the crimes of the century and here he was, trying to be clever to sneak a hitman out of a hospital, right under Mark's nose? It was never going to work. Jesse had never looked at the consequences before until now. He could lose his job and license over this. Was Duke really worth it? Jesse fell to sleep on that thought.

Duke woke up in the early hours of the morning. He couldn't remember much of what happened the night before. He remembered the nausea and it didn't seem to be around at the moment. He was still hot so he moved the sheet down a bit, hoping the movement wouldn't bring back the nausea. The room was dark and he could just about make out the dark shadows and shapes when his eyes got accustomed to it. The only light that infiltrated it was from the small part under the door and the moonlight that drifted through the half drawn blinds. He was about to settle back into a restless sleep again when something caught his attention—a deep breath and then someone exhaling. Duke's head snapped round to the side and he could make out a figure, sitting in the chair.

"I could kill you right now," Duke whispered to himself. "It wouldn't be too hard for me to get out of bed, take anything from this room and knock you across the head. I could get rid of this nagging feeling once and for all of what I'm meant to do…you are nothing to me, kid. You're just a bystander I happened to be trapped with. I've never let anyone get away with it alive." He clutched his sheets tighter. "Why am I allowing you to get away with it?"

Duke knew it was so easy. Maybe that's what was stopping him. Maybe he didn't feel right without his gun instead? His methods of whacking someone across the head were not clean enough for him. But once he killed Travis, how would he get out? The guard would know and he was in no condition to run anyway with this fever that he had. No…he would wait and see what Jesse came up with. If he got him out, he would kill him afterwards. That would be the easiest thing to do…Duke just wasn't quite sure if he could do it. Duke was concerned about him.

Just then, the doctor started to stir. He opened his eyes slightly and stretched in the chair. Then he noticed the man in the bed looking at him. "Hey," he muttered sleepily. "How are you doing?"

Duke shrugged and then shivered so he pulled up the sheets. "Better than I did a few hours ago, I'm sure." He paused. "You ain't been here all night, have you?"

Jesse smiled slightly. "No, just half of it." He stood up and turned on the light but dimmed it so it wouldn't hurt their eyes so much. Then he laughed lightly. "Was it really that bad? I thought that if you were not in so much pain you would have reached up and strangled me."

"Tempting offer," Duke mused. He tried to sit up with Jesse's help. "So, we got the first part of this horrible mess done. I'm bloody well ill and still sitting in this hospital bed. I suppose you're still doing the rest."

Jesse nodded. "Well, I've persuaded Mark to keep you here. You'll be better within a few days provided that it all agrees with your immune system. But in order for this to work, I still need you to _pretend_ to be ill so that you can walk around easily. I know I think, how I'm going to get that guard out of the way and I'm going to pack a doctor's outfit here as well. We can't afford anyone to recognize you so that's how you leave, okay?" Duke nodded and then asked how he was going to get the guard away. "Well, there's a rather stubborn worker here who has been made to do this job. She's been begging for a reason to get fired. She just may get her wish."

"You got this all worked out, ain't you, Dr Travis."

Jesse nodded. "I got it all worked out and it seems so easy that it might just not work. I can't afford it to not work. I don't know why I'm doing this for you, but when we get out of this, you owe me a big favor."

Duke nodded, his eyes starting to close again from the lack of sleep. Jesse watched him go. "I know I owe you," Duke muttered. "I just know I'm going to have to do something and it's gonna have to be big."

* * * *

Tough and determined, a man walked into Community General in the early hours of the morning, wearing a long brown jacket that was down to his ankles. His clothes were loose fitting and flowing with complex designs and vivid colors. He stuck out in the crowd and he was certainly not ashamed of it. Despite his short frame, he looked easily over the crowd of people to find someone who he recognized. But he was spotted first. "Machu?" Mark asked, coming towards him with a perplexed expression on his face. "It's seven o'clock in the morning, Machu, what are you doing here."

"I," Machu said with honestly, "have been deeply insulted. By your trust, Mark-o-san." He looked down at the ground. "I understand how much your business as a doctor and a police consultant mean to you. But to go beyond a layer of friendship to ensure you find a murderer is something that only truly obsessive people do."

Mark frowned. "Machu, what are you talking about?"

"What I am talking about is going into someone else's are without their permission and deliberately search for something that could incriminate them to a murder. I know…you heard Dr Garrison and I talking about it. But to think that I would do something to a man whom I have served for fifteen years is disgraceful. And to go around someone's office without their permission is even worse."

Mark sighed. "How did you find out?"

Machu narrowed his eyes. "Some technology in the world is unnecessary. For other times it proves most useful. There is a camera right above my office. When I noticed that the envelope in my cupboard had been tampered with I immediately went to see because I know no one searches through my desk. I remembered your friend from the party last week."

Steve sighed and walked over to the man. "Machu, is it true that you invested all your money into Carl's company and even gave him the boost and ideas to start it up?" Machu nodded. "And when the whole thing was a success, Carl gave you no credit for you at all."

Machu nodded. "That is correct. He did give me the opportunity to be his secretary. He did promise me my credit for fifteen years and every day I waited for that moment but it never came. But I still stayed as that secretary. I was happy with my job. I thought…that eventually, I would get my 'cut' as you Americans call it." There was almost regret in those eyes. He looked from Steve to Mark and then at Amanda who he recognized from the video. There didn't seem to be a trace of anger any more. He seemed almost upset but was doing his best to hide it.

Steve looked back down at the pieces of paper in his hand. "But then, on the 12th April, three months ago, Carl Graves proposed the fact that he was going to cut you out of the will. It seemed he was going to give you share of the company to his other son. That's over three quarters of the company gone and you still didn't get your credit."

Machu Lie's eyes narrowed even more until they were only dark slits in his face. "Yes, that is also true, I regret. I was hurt at first. To think that fifteen years of friendship and the honest work I did for the man had suddenly disappeared. He rid me of my credit, my notability and then he rids me of what was rightfully mine in the process. I never wanted to be famous, have my face on magazines and on television. That's why I gave the idea to Carl Graves. And like any European, who wants to make it into the world, he took his chance. The only thing I wanted was to have my name known, even if I was a shadow in the limelight. I didn't even get that. Now I do not get even a small percentage of the company."

Steve sighed regrettably. "Does that mean you would kill him?"

Machu's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Kill him…" he asked, his voice dropping off. He understood now where the questions were leading and instead of being angry at the accusation, he seemed completely lost. His face was a mask of confusion. Amanda almost felt sorry for him. His hand started to tremble, as he now knew where he was going. "I would never kill him…I admired him. I may have hated him for what he had done to me over the past few months—but I'd never resort to such a thing as _murder._"

Mark knew that. But he had to face the facts. Some people could be good actors. Machu may just be hiding behind one of them. Anyone was capable of murder if they really wanted to do it. Machu seemed to have perfect means to do it. Judging by what he said, he really meant what he felt about Carl Graves. Machu did mean most things he said but there was definitely decisiveness to his words. So Mark didn't say anything. _I know_, he silently wanted to say but that was not possible. From the look on his son's face, he knew that he was able to take Machu Lie in.

"Mark-o-san?" Machu asked his friend, destroying the silence within the four people. Jesse rounded the corner and seeing what was going on, decided to stay out of the way so watched from a safe distance.

Dark brown eyes met sorrowful blue ones as Mark shook his head. "I'm sorry, Machu."

Machu looked down at the ground. "At least I go with some honor. I hated what Carl had done to me. If someone were needed to go to prison just to repay his death then I would go. But ask yourself if it would fall heavier on your conscience to know that you were putting an innocent man in jail. I do not expect pity from you; I just hoped you would understand my hate and know me well enough not to judge on what is laid out before you eyes but how well you know a person."

Mark turned and walked away from Machu as he heard his son read Machu's rights. "Machu Lie, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say can and will be used again you in a court of law…" Machu didn't protest nor did he look back.

Authors rant:

Thanks very much everyone, who's been reviewing so far. I really appreciate it and hope you continue to keep my spirit up (considering I've got end of year exams coming up and this year, the revision list looks longer!) 

Sooo…I'm on a spree for ideas. I don't know if you fellow authors out there are like me, that if you overdo an idea, it becomes boring to right. But I need inspiration to cure my writers block. (Don't worry, this story will get finished.

End Authors Rant.


	11. Part 2--Chapter 4

****

THE SHAFT

Part 2 — Chapter 4

**_Three Years Ago…_**

A live upscale bar in Chicago was where Duke had spent many nights when he wasn't 'working.' As upscale as it was, it did bring in the drifters and the murderers. But Duke was a professional and therefore he got professional upscale people coming to him like businessmen, millionaires (or at least their servants) and other top-notch people. Duke swirled round looking at the glass of brandy in his hand lazily. He was slightly drunk but coherent. Opposite him was a much better dressed man. Duke would be prepared to admit that this was the only type of 'friend' he had. Even though no one really classified Adrian Motter as a 'friend.' More like a harsh acquaintance with a lot of meaningful things to say.

And as Duke sat again for the eighth night in a row in this bar, he couldn't help wondering that maybe he should give up on his murdering spree now. He had killed more people than he could count. He had more money than his wallet could hold nowheredays and the bills weren't exactly running short. Maybe he could settle down now. But no…it was just too easy. It was easy to have more money coming in.

Adrian was around the same age as Duke but the signs of old age were already showing in him. No one really knew much about Adrian. Everyone knew that despite the fact he was rich, he owned more than he could handle. He was on the bad side of the law as well but no one could touch him. "Answer me one question, Duke," he demanded as Duke drank down the rest of the brandy. "Where do you get the courage to kill every day."

Duke raised a skeptical eyebrow. "There's no courage involved. Just a lotta fear. Fear of getting caught, fear of someone hearing you…you get used to it."

"Do you fear in getting caught."

Duke gave a lazy lopsided grin and leaned over the small round table to Adrian. "Motter, I'm a profession killer-for-hire. This is my job. It's not just something I do for a one off because someone annoys me. Of course I'm afraid. But you don't tell anyone that, okay?" He ordered another brandy.

"I think you've had enough for one night," Adrian insisted. And then out of the corner of his eye he spotted someone walking into the bar and he cursed silently. Jiminy wasn't supposed to be here. And now that he was, war would strike like an ignited gas tank. There wasn't a soul that didn't know about the current dispute between Duke Lotella and Jiminy Sampson. To Adrian's dismay, he saw Sampson walk over to them.

"Duke, is it true that you slept with a hooker last night…?" he asked, letting the question hang. "And is it true that she paid for the extra that you gave her after that hot night." Duke didn't look at the man but his hand clamped round the brandy glass. Jiminy's annoying laugh sounded in his ears.

"Did you kill her after that dose?" Jiminy asked, laughing again.

Duke's patience, as usual, didn't last for long. He leapt up from his seat, dropping his empty glass and shattering it to the floor. He caught Jiminy by his neck, sending him into the wall and pulled out his gun to lift to the other man's temple. Jiminy's sudden cockiness was replaced by fear. Duke was known by reputation and now he looked mad. "Listen here, Jimmy. You're an ammeter. You're out of your league to be playing with the big boys. So go back to the junior hitman boy-scouts and come back when you grow up. Otherwise I'll show you my own lesson of how to become a professional hitman…right in the head. Understand?"

Jiminy couldn't answer and Adrian got up before he could do anything stupid. Placing a hand on the hitman's shoulder, he prized by the man and made him sit down, jerking his head to tell Jiminy to go away. He didn't need telling twice. "I should think that after the murder you committed last week you'd need to keep a low profile if you intend to keep the police away from you," Adrian informed, putting on his large coat for it was the middle of winter and the blizzards were in.

Duke nodded. "Whatever."

Suddenly, he felt someone tap his shoulder and he saw a slender young woman, dressed up in her own bundle of coats, who had just come through the door. She looked rather nervous and scared of seeing Duke. But she summoned the courage. "Hi…I need your help with something," she insisted.

And so, with his next offer, Duke was out of town and into Sacramento with a guaranteed $500 000 plan. And he didn't return to Chicago for at least four years after that. Therefore, because of all his travelling he didn't hear about Adrian Motter and what happened to him. For a few days after he left Sacramento, Adrian had left a drugstore with a bunch of herbal remedies (as Adrian didn't believe in the real doctor stuff) when a car had spread out of nowhere. Being the middle of the night, no one saw the accident happen and so he was found the next morning. If he hadn't died of the head wound, he had certainly died of the cold.

And no one knew whether it was deliberate or not…

* * * * *

**__**

Present Day

Inside a hotel room, Jamie Condrack was packing his suitcase. On the thirty ninth floor of one of the hotels in Los Angeles, he had spent over half an hour on the balcony, staring out at the ocean. He was in the Malibu area. He knew one of those nice houses belonged to Dr Mark Sloan but he wasn't interested in that. What a coincidence…Jamie had been thinking about other things. He had been thinking about things that had happened since he arrived in Los Angeles. There had been the party, the many confrontations with Travis, the death of a man that his mentor knew and Jeanie Morgstone. How could so much happened in a week? He had thought about it whilst staring and listening to the faint sounds of the waves. It was something he didn't get to do in the heart of Germany.

He had cursed Jesse Travis over and over in his head. He couldn't believe how much trouble and hate he still had within the man. He only knew about Carl Graves through Dr Garrison but his name was widely known throughout Germany because he had set up the Hospital of Cardiac Arrest or HCA for short. Carl Graves was a very widely known man in Germany, even though he spent most of his time in America. Jamie did know a lot about it him even though Dr Garrison didn't seem to talk much about him.

Now after spending his time on the balcony, he had returned to packing his bag. He had half started it but most of the things were simply lying on his bed at the moment. But he began shoving them crudely into the bag, not caring about the mess. He would sort it out when he got back to Germany again. It was at that point that the door opened and Dr Garrison himself came in. He rubbed his hands together and smiled at Jamie who didn't return the friendly welcome. Dr Garrison paused, adjusted his glasses and sat on the bed opposite of Jamie's. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Jamie shrugged. "I don't even know myself any more. I don't think there is anything wrong, then why I am so bothered about everything."

"Well? What is this everything?" Dr Garrison urged him again.

"Just…just being here." Jamie slammed the suitcase in frustration, even though he hadn't finished. "It's been wrong ever since that party. I saw Travis there and that set off a whole load of sparks and memories that I didn't want to trigger. Every time I see him, I just go mad. I don't outwardly show it but I do. And I don't want to feel that way. I want to put it all behind me. When I go back to Germany, I am going to forget about him so I don't know why it's getting to me."

Garrison just nodded understandingly. "Well, such a grudge spanning a long time can simply make it automatic that you feel this way about young Travis. Just think a focus. It's like being in the operating room. The minute you lose your concentration on the matter at hand, then it all falls apart and the operation goes wrong. It could cost the man his life. Concentrate on trying to not be annoyed with Travis and therefore you will not shout at him."

Jamie nodded. "But do you know what that pathologist said to me. She must be Jesse's friend or something." _You are some piece of work. I don't know a lot about you but I think I got everything I needed to ever know from that scene just now_. Jamie shook his head. "Nevermind," he said repeating the words.

"Well," Dr Garrison said, getting up, "Whatever she said to you, I'm sure it isn't true. She's known you for a few days and I've known you for a few years. Okay, so you may have cheated." Jamie looked up at him.

"You knew?"

Dr Garrison nodded. "No matter how many times you have and you will deny it, Jamie, I knew you had cheated and got those answers. But I took you on anyway because I know there is no way you could have cheated at my academy. Look at you now, boy, you are one of the brightest students." Jamie smiled and shook his head in embarrassment as Dr Garrison poured a drink of whisky from the bar. "I shall say it now and I shall say it again, you have been one of the brightest students I have ever worked with in all my life. You have potential and then young spirit to be a great doctor."

"Like you?" Jamie asked.

Dr Garrison's face turned into shock. The glass dropped from his hand and the whisky sprayed onto the carpet. Jamie looked up in puzzlement. "No, boy, not like me. You should _never _become like me. I don't want you to be me…I want you to be yourself. Be good at yourself with your own elements. Be unique and shine through in a different way. Not like me—an old doctor who is passed his ways and has nothing left to live for."

Jamie shook his head. "That's not true. You're one of the best…"

Garrison put up his hand to silence his protégé and Jamie remained that way as he picked up the rest of the glass from the floor and placed it on the mini bar top. Then he got a dishcloth and covered the whisky stain with it. Finally, he straightened up. "I know why else you're upset. It's about that woman, Jeanie Morgstone, isn't it?"

Jamie frowned. "Do you keep tabs on me or something."

Garrison shook his head. "No, no," he said innocently. "It's just that when you do not return home for the majority of the week, you begin to wonder and I have seen you a lot with that woman, Jeanie Morgstone. Very attractive, isn't she?"

"She's also dead."

Garrison sighed. "I know, I read it in the papers yesterday evening. I know that it must be hard for you. Young love is…sometimes special. But you knew that when you returned to Germany that having a relationship wasn't possible. She was just some sort of a fling you had and it was bound to come to an end. I'm just sorry it had to happen this way." He hoped he sounded convincing enough but he wasn't too sure. He was secretly glad that the whole thing had ended. It wouldn't have been too good for his young doctor to get involved with someone and then attempt to ruin his own career over her.

"She didn't mean anything to me," Jamie insisted but from the tone of his voice, he didn't seem too sure himself. "I met her, she was upset. She was young and yes, she was attractive. I did like her but I knew…it wasn't possible. I knew that," he tried to reassure himself.

Dr Garrison just nodded again. Then he looked at Jamie's bed. "What's all this, then. Packing and eager to get out already?" Jamie looked confused. "We're staying a little bit longer. You know, bask in the California sun, possibly a bit of surfing but I don't think it's quite for me." He smiled. "Looks like you have to unpack again."

* * * * *

It was now a few days later. Duke looked out beyond him. It was a battlefield out there. It was war. His knights in amour were winning and he knew it. He only had a few but combined with the nausea every so often, he was managing to win this war against his opponent. He studied in careful concentration. He didn't want to lose this one. Duke had been through many wars of his own but never one like this. This was something new and he was going to have to face it by himself. There was no one here to help him this time. Duke never thought he needed help. Though, this wasn't so much a personal war. It was a test of strength and skill—and Duke lacked in one of them. Even so, he picked up a piece and made a move. "Checkmate," he said.

Jesse looked down at the board in amazement and quickly assessed the situation. "I don't believe it," he said. "That's the second time you've beat me and I only taught you how to play chess in fifteen minutes."

"What can I say, I'm a natural," Duke said, leaning back again. "We've spent the past two and a half hours on this and I've become a winner both times. I never thought something like this could be so stimulating and relaxing."

Jesse smirked. "Do you even know what the words mean?"

Duke gave him a sarcastic look. "I'm not totally thick. Believe it or not, I can put a sentence together." He watched as Jesse gave up and put the pieces back into the box again. "I read some of these books lying around the place even that medical one your left last night. Interesting but I didn't get it."

Jesse laughed. "I don't really expect you to understand how to flush out a person's colon."

Duke shrugged. "Hey, I don't even know which side my stomach and my livers are on. All I know is where the heart is and where the brain is because if you want to kill fast and painlessly and quietly, that's the place to put the trigger." He looked back satisfied at Jesse's disgusted face.

"Good thing you're not a doctor. You'd probably plunge them to death with a scalpel half way through an operation." He set the box aside and sat back in his chair again, stretching a bit. "It's been three days. Your are definitely better. In fact, almost better enough to get out of here." Duke looked at him pliantly. "Don't look at me like that." Duke smiled and Jesse opened and packet of chips to eat. "You're not allowed these and I don't think you want them—my shift's ended. Well, Caitlin—the Goth girl—has agreed to do it. You know what she said to me. She said 'stuff this up-ass job. I need some excitement anyway.'"

Duke laughed. "Is she on Community Service here?"

Jesse nodded. "Uh huh, and she doesn't care about it at all." He took another handful of crisps. "What's the point in doing this if you're going back to crime."

Duke shook his head and looked at the doctor. "I swear you're on something, man. You seem a little bit more high than usual. You on the coffee again like you were yesterday?"

Jesse looked at him blankly. "I survive on coffee in this place. If you work the night shift then you definitely need it." He tipped the rest of the crisps in his mouth. "Then again, it could be the excitement of going against all the rules my mentor and friends taught me, to bust out a hitman and send him back on the road to killing again." He shook his head, crumpled up the packet and tossed it in the bin behind the chair he was sitting in.

Duke shook his head and pushed himself up in the bed again. "I know, I know, you're still pissed off about it. I don't blame you. No one asked you to do this."

Jesse leaned low in his seat lazily and gave Duke an incredulous. "I know I'm going to regret this later because of the coffee, but I actually want to do this. Don't go into this whole friendship thing again cause I'm sick and tired of it. I just want some fun and excitement for once in my life—an excitement that doesn't involve danger. Then again this does but that's besides the point. It's the thrill. I'm fed up of just being at the side of these cases. Now, I'm in the middle."

Duke laughed again. "Go have a lie down, Doc."

Jesse shook his head. "I'm not tired. Steve came by my apartment last night and we were talking about the progress of the case and how it's going with Machu Lie." 

Duke shook his head. "Machu Lie didn't hire me."

"Hmm, I'm sure and I know you're not going to tell me who did. But don't forget, there are two killers running around here: The one that hired you and the one that decided to put matters into his own hands." The hitman grimaced and Jesse paused. "Uh-oh. What?"

"Well…I haven't been entirely truthful."

"That wouldn't be a first."

Duke narrowed his eyes with mock threatening. "Will you just shut up and listen." Jesse took up the role of a patient schoolboy and Duke laughed again. "Man, I can't even have a conversation with you. But this is serious. I wasn't going to the killing."

"What do you know, a hitman with cold feet."

"Kid!" Duke said and Jesse shut his mouth again. "I wasn't going to do it but I had a better offer elsewhere. I told the man that wanted Carl dead that I couldn't do it. It happened that in the end that the other person didn't need the job done. I didn't get the chance to call the man who wanted Carl dead so I just turned up to get the job done and to get paid _after_ whereas before."

Jesse nodded. "So, technically, the killer could still the man who hired you. He found out that you couldn't job so he still decided to do it by himself anyway and got some Cyanide to put into his drink. He did that before you had the chance so when you turned up the scene and shot him dead, that must have freaked him out. He thinks that you might still be asking for money. It's still the same person, I'm sure of it." He thought the conclusion around in his head. It was possible—very possible. How many people could hate Carl Graves to kill him?

"You going to tell your pals?" Duke asked.

Jesse sighed. "Don't put me into that position, Duke. It's hard enough for me as it is. I'm already trying to bust you out of here. That at least gets _you_ free. It doesn't matter if the other killer says because everyone knows you shot him anyway but by that time you'll be free and out of here." He leaned closer to Duke and Duke turned his head to hear as Jesse's voice quieted. "Now, you listen, cause I'm not going to be here to do much of the word. It relies mainly on you. We're going to have to do this today. I think Mark, Steve and Amanda are getting suspicious. Here's how it goes…"

Outside the room, Mark and Steve Sloan were watching them through half drawn blinds. The occupants in the room couldn't see them; but then again, neither Steve nor Mark could hear the conversation going on inside. Every so often, they could hear and see either Jesse or Duke laughed, or making some sort of wisecrack to the other. "It's the most strangest relationship I've ever seen, don't you think so?" Steve said.

"Yes, considering their backgrounds," Mark said. Steve looked questioningly at his father. "Well, Duke is an international hired killer. Jesse is an every day LA doctor. A most unlikely pair. But then again, Duke Lotella is only human. Doesn't everyone have a right to have friends?"

He turned round to walk away and Steve followed him. "But, dad, the guy is hired to kill people. You think someone deserves to have a friend. Let alone Jesse, who has no idea what he's getting himself into. Jesse is getting himself too involved with," he said, pointing back to the door. "If they become too much like friends then we are in trouble."

"I think we already are," Mark said calmly. "You won't pry them away now."

Steve nodded. "That's what I was afraid of."

Amanda walked up to them. "Steve, what's the verdict looking on Machu Lie?"

Steve grimaced. "Very guilty by the look of it. His motive his very strong and from my eye witness testimony, it definitely looks as though he had the capability and time to do it. The only thing we are lacking is the proof that he hired Duke."

Amanda looked towards Duke's room. "Do you get the feeling that Jesse could be hiding something from us?"

"Like what?"

"Like who the killer really is?"


	12. Part 2--Chapter 5

****

THE SHAFT

Part 2 — Chapter 5

Caitlin McGeachy was fed up with this job. It sucked. It sucked big time, actually. So what—she had done a few muggings in shops and on people and joyride in a car only to end up crashing into the lamppost. Every time she looked in the mirror, she could see the stitches above her eyebrow where the glass from a broken windshield. What did she care? She didn't mind if she had a criminal record even though her mother was disgraced. Oh well, she never got along with her mother anyway. But she never expected this. Prison was better than Community Service if she had a choice. But the police agreed that at fifteen, she couldn't spend time in prison so she was let off and confined to Community General Hospital to work.

It was hell. Caitlin knew she'd rather kiss her brother. She had been spending the last three weeks collecting linen, changing bed sheets and escorting terminally ill old patients or annoying children from one place to another. She wondered how doctors could do this day after day. It was so annoying. She hadn't even been allowed to sit and watch a surgery take place. At least that would have been some fun. But the doctor in charge of her refused. He also refused to fire her because he knew that's what she wanted.

So when Dr Jesse Travis came to her, asking her for help, she listened keenly. It sounded like a different sort of help. He said this was Caitlin's opportunity to get fired because if she did this, she knew people would be mad at her. Caitlin had seen Jesse Travis around the hospital. To her, he didn't look old enough to be a doctor but who was she to judge. And despite her Goth-like appearance, she couldn't help thinking that he was somewhat attractive. But when he proposed that idea, she jumped at the chance. All she needed to do was give a distraction to lure a guard away. She had done it in malls all the time to help her friends when shoplifting.

"What do I get out of it?" she asked Dr Travis.

Jesse's mouth dropped. "What do you mean, what do you get out of it? You're going to be fired! What more could you ask for." Caitlin held her hand out and Jesse sighed. "I can give you twenty dollars." He handed the money over. "That's my lunch break over."

"I'll buy you a sandwich sometime."

Jesse smiled sarcastically. "Thanks. Just do it please?" Caitlin nodded. "Good, it was never me, all right?" Caitlin and pocketed the money. So here she was, that evening, waiting for the chance. The guard was out there looking extremely bored. Caitlin wondered how a man could just stand guard at a door all day just watching people go buy. It seemed that he was the only one there all day. Caitlin sighed and then took another deep breath. She wasn't used to acting like this and the part she had decided to play was nothing like her usual stuff. She had taken off her make-up and all her black nail polish and tried to look like a normal kid—it was hard.

"Hey!" she said, running over the guard and the tall man looked at her, his eyebrows raised. "You have to come quick. There's some kids on the next floor up; I think they're taking drugs or something cos they got a cigarette. They were offering it to another one of the kids walking by."

The guard looked round frantically. "Couldn't you call security or something?"

Caitlin opened her eyes wider. "You were the first person I found. Quick, you got to do something. They don't do this stuff in a hospital. They'll kill someone if they're not careful. Hurry!" The guard looked round helplessly and then back to the room that he was guarding. It looked as though the man inside was fast asleep. He could spend a few minutes just to leave him quickly to see what was going on. He needed _some _excitement out of the day. He ran off. Caitlin sighed and rolled her eyes. "Sucker," she muttered and then opened the door, wondering whether she should say anything to the sleeping man. "Oi, whoever you are. I think you better go now."

To her surprise, the man's eyes opened. Caitlin just closed the door and walked off again. She had done her twenty bucks worth. Now she was just waiting to be shown the door. But inside the room, Duke was already sitting up. His stomach still felt slightly light but he was prepared to chance it and run out. Duke had done so many killings in his life so why was this bothering. Was he having the jitters? Maybe it was the thought of getting caught. Jesse had been as good as his word though. He had put on the doctor's uniform without the hat and now standing up with the hat on, he was barely recognizable. "Doesn't suit me, though," he muttered to himself.

Taking a deep breath, Duke decided to do it now. He opened the door and walked out of the room, praying that no one like Mark or Steve Sloan where in sight or that guard. He hoped Amanda Bentley wasn't either because every time she passed the room, she gave him a weird look. No one was there and he sighed with relief. He walked down the corridor, hoping he was going the wrong way and hoping that no other doctor would stop, thinking he was someone else. It would be just like a movie. But no, Duke thought luck was on his side today. He made it, after several turns and puzzlement's and the door was in sight. It was less than ten meters away.

He carried on walking. He spotted Jesse Travis at the reception, looking over a clipboard. He was smiling at a nurse but paused when he saw Duke. Duke was about to flash a grin but Jesse immediately turned round and carried on, pretending he didn't notice. Duke tried not to take it too personally. Jesse didn't want anyone to know who was involved. Duke sighed and carried on walking. He was getting closer and closer to the exit. Would someone stop him? Would someone recognize him? It just made Duke faster. He made it outside the doors…then he started running.

* * * * *

It was found out, fifteen minutes later when the guard returned, that Duke Lotella was not in his bed. He immediately called Norman who then called Mark and Steve, who happened to be at the hospital at the time. From on things went from panic to distress.

Norman leaned outside the room, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. "Oh, this is terrible," he said to Mark, who was pacing up and down the corridor. "There is a madman—a hitman—running lose in my hospital. He could be capable of killing anyone, taking a hostage. We'll have terminally ill people at gunpoint. It could lead to disaster. It could lead to Swat and the FBI. Apart from the publicity could you imagine the embarrassment this could cause me and Community General?"

Mark shook his head. "That's besides the point, Norman. He is a killer, not a madman, though. If he was desperate enough, he probably would take a hostage and that's something we have to worry about. We may demand things like transport, a secure exit…"

"Money!" cried Norman. "Oh God please don't make him ask for money."

Mark sighed with exasperation. "Norman! He couldn't have gone very far. Someone must have seen him. He would have been walking around with some sort of cramp and in pain. He just came out of a serious fever. See if the staff or patients noticed anyone—check the cameras, have security on alert. Do those sorts of things. He's definitely not in this room."

Steve came out. "Well, he certainly didn't jump out of the window and there's no way out other than that door. The guard said a girl distracted him. We can assume she was in on this. Dark long hair, traces of make-up, tall, slim, almost skinny…"

Mark rolled his eyes. "Caitlin McGeachy. She's a Community Service girl we've got. She was trouble. But why would she do something like this."

"If someone paid her."

At that moment, Mark noticed Jesse walking down the hallway. He was engrossed in a flipchart, which he was frowning at and flipping the pages over. "Jesse!" he cried to him and the young doctor looked up in question. He smiled at Mark but when he saw the extra security guards and grim faces of Steve, he couldn't help his stomach lurching. _This is it, _he thought.

"Hey, Mark…what's going on? What's Duke done?"

"Escaped."

Jesse's eyes widened. "What!" he cried out. He thrust the flipchart into Steve's hands and went into the room. He was met with an empty rumpled bed and several other security guards but there was no Duke inside. That was good, he hadn't been caught and had definitely left. Jesse had seen him go out but for the sake of the others, he had to put on a show. He hated doing it. His shoulders sagged. "Oh hell."

He felt Steve come up behind him and he tried not to tense up. This was the hardest thing he had ever remembered doing for a long time. He couldn't remember lying to all three of his friends for someone else's benefit. He wondered whether they could be able to see right through him. Steve had worked on hundreds of cases. What if he knew a liar? And Mark…Mark could deduct practically anything. Would he able to tell through Jesse's reactions what had happened. Jesse could feel the room getting hot around him as Steve said, "Jess, you didn't know anything about this, did you?" Was it an accusation or just a question?

Jesse just shook his head. "No, I didn't." He gave an indignant cry as though he was frustrated. "I _told _him not to do anything like this. It would only land him into even more trouble and possibly even me. I thought he'd at least listen to that much. Now he actually goes and runs off." He could almost feel the frustration. But the words he did didn't match. He was frustrated about why he had done this. He had done it for Duke but what was he getting out of it? Practically nothing.

Steve could see the look on his friend's face and mistook it for something else. He put a hand on Jesse's shoulder. "Don't worry, Jess. We'll find him."

Jesse nodded and turned away. He needed to get out of there or else he would suffocate. He walked out and decided to carry on with his rounds. Thoughts were circling his mind that he couldn't even concentrate anymore. He was frustrated and restless. He wanted to know where Duke was but he knew the man wouldn't call. He'd probably never see him again. So, that was it? The man disappears without a trace and Jesse is left with this horrible feeling. Jesse just didn't know how heavy it would be. It was terrible, enough to make him feel ill. He had lied to his friends and in order to keep their friendship still, he had to keep it. A true friendship isn't based on lies. Maybe that's why Jesse and Duke went together well. They were honest with each other. Jesse knew he was friends with Mark and the others because he didn't keep secrets from them…until now. And none so terrible as this.

He went into the doctor's lounge to get some coffee and shook his head in amazement. He poured it out and found it too cold. "I know what you did," someone said and Jesse jumped, almost dropping his coffee. He turned.

"Amanda?" he said. "What are you talking about."

Amanda walked into the room. "I heard about Duke Lotella and I just _knew _you had to be the one to do it. Why did you do it?"

Jesse frowned, panic rising. "Do what?" he asked.

Amanda looked at him, almost in sympathy. He was still hiding it. "You know what, Jess. You helped Duke Lotella out of the building. I don't know how you did it but it was a very clever way and now he's escaped. The police are never going to find him now. He needed to go to prison. _Why _did you do it?"

Jesse lowered his head, putting the coffee cup down on the worktop and leaning against it. "Didn't you ever do anything for a friend?"

"Duke Lotella was hardly a friend."

"And what would you know, huh!" Jesse shouted, the sound of his voice making even him jump. "I know that every time you passed his room you would give Duke a dirty look. Or when Steve and Mark passed by and felt sorry for me because they thought I was mixing with the wrong kind. Or Norman! Who probably thought the idea of a doctor mingling with a killer was a disgrace. But _I_****knew him even if you didn't."

Amanda shook her head, not believing she was hearing this. But then when she looked up at Jesse, her eyes were filled with amazement. "Mark was right. You have just gotten too close."

"Oh yes, and Mark knows everything," Jesse said sarcastically.

"He knew you were friends with Duke. He couldn't understand why. He just looked the future and saw the consequences."

Amanda looked at Jesse. He still seemed angry but he knew that as a friend he would listen. But there was a sign that he was backing down. He refused to look at Amanda but stared at a spot on the wall. He gritted his teeth because he knew he was busted now. "Jesse…I don't understand," Amanda said pleadingly. "You are totally different to Duke. He…he spent a lot of time on the rode, hired to be killed, did the job and got paid for it. You're here, a qualified educated doctor, dedicated to saving lives. What made you two click? What was it, Jesse, were we not good enough as friends."

"No…no it's not that. Is it wrong to find a friend?"

"Well find the right kind," Amanda snapped. "Jesse, we have spent a while, trying to find out who Carl Graves' killer was. We were close to nowhere. We know Machu Lie didn't do it and Duke Lotella could have proven that even without proof that he was hired. Now an innocent upstanding man is going to go to jail whilst he's able to wander free and kill. He _knew_ who that real killer was and who hired him. He could have tied it all together. Now we'll probably never know for sure."

Jesse didn't say anything but continued staring at the floor. He couldn't find anything to say. There seemed more reasons not to free Duke Lotella than to actually do so. Was everything based on facts and evidence and writing? Did nothing depend on mortal feelings and what you know is right.

Amanda walked up to him. "Jesse, you need to get your priorities sorted. What was it going to be? Your real friends—the ones who you have spent the best part of five years with? Who you worked with, solved cases with, and owned a restaurant with? Or is it going to be the other type of friend, who you met by chance got to know for a week and who has now deserted you?"

Jesse looked up on the wall. He let out a breath. "My shift started two minutes ago," he said, pulling away from Amanda and heading towards the door. He stopped and looked back at her. "Are you going to tell Steve and Mark?"

Amanda didn't want to hear that question. She had no idea what do. "I have to," she said. "It's a choice between what's right and what's wrong and Jesse, I know this is wrong." She paused. "Do you know what you did is wrong?"

Jesse looked round and shrugged. "You know what, I don't know any more. There are two sides when you look at it from my point of view. Both of them would have been done but only one was. I don't regret what I've done, though." 

Amanda shook her head. "Mark and Steve will never forgive you for this," she hissed at him.

* * * * *

Tired and washed out, Jesse returned to his apartment. He was so tired. It was nine o'clock at night and he wasn't usually worn out then. It just must have been all the turmoil of today. He knew Amanda had told the others by the looks that had been given. Jesse spent most of his time then avoiding them. He didn't want to talk about the case and was too worried about what they'd say in front of him. Jesse would rather just not know. He groaned as he reached the top step in front of his apartment door, that he was working with Steve tomorrow in Barbecue Bob's.

He fished out his keys and then opened the door. He heard the TV going on in the background as he opened it and then turned round to close it. "Hey, kid, a game's on." Jesse warily nodded as he pushed the door shut. Then he realized that Haley wasn't home. She was still at work and the voice that had spoken was a male. Jesse closed his eyes, not knowing whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.

He leaned against the door and folded his arms. "What are you doing here?" he asked quietly.

Duke looked at him and smiled. "Well, I thought I'd come back and see you. I have the police stumped and I didn't get a time to talk to you at the hospital to thank you and stuff."

"How did you get into my house?"

Duke looked at him, frowning and put the remote on the couch. The sounds of a football game just a drone in a background. "Pretty basic for a hitman to get into any room. Don't worry, there weren't any damages." Jesse groaned. "Hey, what's wrong, aren't you glad to see me."

Jesse sat down. "No…yes…well I don't know anymore!" He ran a hand through his hair. "It's all going wrong. They knew."

"They know!" Duke blasted, turning to face him. "How!"

Jesse sighed and shrugged. "I don't know. Well, it should have been obvious. I was your only friend, only I could have got you out of there. Only I would be stupid enough to try and get you out. No one else had a reason." He hit the side of the couch with his fist and let out a low hiss. "Dam, I can't believe this is happening. How could I have been so stupid, thinking I could get away from it? Someone was bound to notice you were gone and that it was my fault. Why didn't I see it in the first place? I just got to cocky of myself."

Duke was about to put a hand on Jesse's shoulder but the younger man jumped up, his face furious. "Don't even touch me. I don't even want to _hear _from you anymore. Ever since I met you, my life has just turned upside down. I'm in trouble, I could lose my job, I lost the trust of my friends—hey, I may even _lost _my friends. Don't make it any worse. Nothing you can say or do now can put it right." He turned round on the spot and ran a hand through his hair again. "Listen, we said that once I got you out, we forget this ever happened. Now take whatever you brought with you and get the hell out of LA before I turn you out again."

"Hey, Doc, come—"

"No," Jesse said, shaking his head. "I can't afford anything any more. Haley will be coming back any minute. She can't find you here because she'll freak out. I've probably lost my job, most likely lost my friends. Now can you give me something that can make what I've done any better."

"Well…"

"Can you tell me who hired you?" Jesse demanded. Duke looked down, almost biting his lip not saying anything. Jesse rolled his eyes. "I thought not," he said with regret. He walked up to the door and opened it. "Out." Duke looked at the game and then he stood up, tossing the remote down and walked up to the door. "You never gave me anything but trouble," Jesse said, looking at him right in the eyes.

Duke looked back at Jesse. "You know, there was a time a while back that I would have hit someone if they had done what you just did. But I can't anymore. I don't know if it's just because it's you or what. I can't hit you. All I can is that I'm sorry. I didn't want you to get into trouble and I certainly didn't want you to lose your friends." He walked out of the door, closing it behind him, leaving Jesse in his apartment. Jesse leaned against the wall. Then, in sudden frustration, he kicked the banister, sending a few sprays of wood everywhere but that's about as much adrenaline as Jesse had left. He leaned and fell down against the wall, head in his arms.


	13. Part 2--Chapter 6

****

THE SHAFT

Part 2 — Chapter 6

It was pitch darkness outside but the wind was howling a lot. He could hear it whistling in the trees and hitting the window. But still, Jesse didn't move. He just stared up at the ceiling, making little patterns out of the shadows on it. His eyes had become adjusted to the dark. Even though it was already midnight, Jesse found that he couldn't sleep. He was restless and every time he turned over, he got bored of the position or it became too uncomfortable, making him turn over again. All he could think about what the mistake he had made that day and how all the guilt had been forced upon him. No one had spoken to him about it nor had he spoken to anyone. He didn't feel like talking to Duke at the time.

So much good that did him now. Duke had probably already crossed the border of the state and was free again to go off into some own distant land again to kill. That was his job and Jesse had let him go to do it. Was he thinking about the lives of others of just about himself and Duke? It seemed stupid now. And a part of him wished that he hadn't let Duke go because he had enjoyed the man's company. Then again, if he had stayed any longer, eventually he would be sent off to country jail—then Death Row.

All the facts just played circles with each other.

He rolled onto his side and faced the door, his eyes still open but he pushed the covers down a little bit more. He now felt hot.

Next to him, Haley also had her eyes open. She was looking at Jesse because she had sensed that he was uncomfortable; that he was restless; and that something was bothering him. From the way he moved and the sighs that he gave off all the time, she knew that Jesse was not himself. He had also proved that when they were at home and he had not said anything all evening. She went up close to him and put an arm on his shoulder. "Jesse," she said quietly. Jesse didn't answer. "I know you're awake, don't pretend you aren't." Jesse rolled over to turn to look at her. 

He smiled slightly. "Yeah, I know. I'm a bad actor." He yawned.

Haley ignored the comment. As usual, he was trying to avoid the subject of something important. "What's bothering you, Jess," Haley asked, propping herself up on one elbow and the other hand on his chest. "Come on, I know there's something wrong. You've so distant all evening; you've barely said a word. What's wrong? Is it the case with Mark?"

Jesse shook his head even though it was a small lie. It all linked in with that, didn't it? He sighed again but didn't look at Haley. "No…well, sort of." He paused and looked at the ceiling, deep in thought... "Have you ever done something…which you thought was right. You thought you were doing something good for someone and that it made you feel good about yourself. But when people found out what you did, they tell you it's wrong and only then does it hit you, the reality of what's happened."

Haley smiled at him. "You know that I've done some very stupid things in my time. I went with Marcus and my friends told me that was a mistake. I ignored them and I lost them. Then I went out with you and my friends told me yet again that it was stupid." She kissed him on the lips. "So far, nothing bad has come out of it. It's what _you_ think is right, Jess. No one else matters. If you think what is done has been good for you and for someone else then why are you letting other opinions getting in the way."

Jesse nodded. "I know, I know. I know what I've done in my opinion is right but then again they are not. I don't want to lose Mark, Steve or Amanda. How would I get along without them at the hospital or the restaurant?"

Haley sat up and looked at her boyfriend, who still looked depressed. "Are you going to tell me?" she asked. "I won't mind if you don't. I just thought it might help and I'm not going to question you in any way. You knew what you did was right and that's what you think. I won't go against it."

Jesse looked around, wondering whether he should. But finally, he sat up as well next to Haley and told his story about Duke in the hospital, how he helped out to get him free and the confrontation with Amanda in the Doctor's lounge afterwards leading to the argument to Duke in the house. "Her reasons were all so true and they seemed to out stand mine. I spent the whole of today just avoiding them, hoping that they didn't hate me but I was too afraid to go and ask anything. I didn't even go to Pete in case he had heard something as well." Haley looked at Jesse earnestly. "You're mad at me now, aren't you? You going to give me some lecture about my do's and don'ts."

Haley shook her head and pushed Jesse back onto the bed. She looked down at him. "Jesse, no one is saying that making friends with Duke was a bad idea. You helping him was a mutual thing. And it's true, Steve Mark and Amanda didn't know Duke as well as you did. You could understand him. Maybe they were worried at first but now they are more concerned about the case. Duke could have been the one to help."

Jesse shook his head. "He wouldn't have done anything. Even when I asked him that last time, he still refused to tell me who had really done it. He's out there and I hope he goes away. I don't care about the favors that he owes me, just that he goes away."

Haley put her hands on Jesse's wrists and looked down at him sternly. "Say that he's not going to come back and go after you for any reason, Jess."

Jesse frowned. "No, no," he replied seriously. "He wouldn't come back after me and I know that for a fact. He has no reason to." He looked up into Haley's face. "What's wrong, you look upset?"

Haley didn't move. "I'm worried, Jess. You have an uncanny habit to get caught up in these situations. First Marcus Lavoy, then in that building and now with Duke. I don't want to see you get hurt or upset in any way because you and I both couldn't live with that. I don't want Duke Lotella to hurt you. Don't get me wrong, I trust you, but promise me, that whatever happens, you won't do anything to get yourself hurt, despite anything to do with friends or cases or whatever."

Jesse looked up at her and nodded. "I promise," he said quietly. Then he looked at his hands, which were still clamped by Haley's. "You got me in a good position, you know."

Haley hit him lightly on the arm. "Don't push it," she said, lying down again next to him. "Will you fall asleep with no worries now?" She turned her head to look over at Jesse.

Jesse nodded. "Thanks." He kissed her on the lips and looked into her blue eyes, wandering what he ever did to deserve her. "I love you."

She nodded. Then she pulled Jesse down so he was lying beside her and wrapped her arms around his waist. "So do I." She smiled. "Even though you did allow a hitman to sit on my couch…I love you anyway, Jess."

* * * * *

Steve Sloan put a bowl of salad down in the middle of the table before sitting down next to his dad and opposite Amanda. His face was still a mixed look, which even his father couldn't see through. There was anger in there, for sure even though it didn't show much. Mark knew the signs. There was disbelief. There was a hint of sadness as well.

"I just don't understand," Steve said whilst he was put some of the salad onto his plate, "why Jesse would do something like this. He knew what we were using Duke Lotella for. We needed to find Carl Grave's killer and he runs off to let him go." He picked up his fork and looked prepared to stab the salad but he controlled his movements. "We're never going to find him now. No one in the whole of the US had caught Duke Lotella before and we had him in a hospital, ill." He shook his head in exasperation.

Mark looked at Amanda and then at his son in a curious way. Amanda shrugged, not seeing what Mark was looking at her for. But Mark had sensed something else. "Steve, are you sure that's all that's bothering you?"

Steve glanced up at his father and then put the fork down again. Steve was also restless. He couldn't keep still about this whole business either. "It's just that…I can't believe Jesse _lied _to me. He's never usually the one to lie about things. He's more honest than anyone else I've ever known. You know that as well. Yet when I asked him whether he knew anything about this, he said no, when in truth, he had every idea. He had to be the one to have planned it." Steve frowned and looked down at his plate. Suddenly he was very hungry. "I can't believe he did that."

Amanda shook her head and looked nervously between father and son. She had told them about the confrontation with Jesse, how he had given in and practically admitted to doing it. He didn't even seem ashamed of it. Now Amanda was half regretting her choice. She didn't want rifts between anyone. She just wanted to say the truth because what she thought Jesse had done was wrong and indecent. _Then again_, Amanda thought to herself, _Maybe he did have his reasons. Everyone has reasons for what they do._

Steve, least of all Mark, was pretty unhappy about what had happened. At firs they didn't want to believe but why would Amanda lie about something like this. Then the facts fitted into place. Who else could possibly have done it and wanted to do it?

Steve went straight to get an APB on Duke Lotella before he could try and skip the state and Mark went to find Jesse. But wherever the young doctor was, he wasn't showing himself. He had asked a few nurses and Pete but no one had seen him. Not even Norman who seemed to know every detail (despite the fact he had bigger worries on his mind.) Mark wasn't so much angry with Jesse. It was more of the shock sinking in. He wanted to talk to Jesse not rant at him.

"What does that tell us?" Steve said, bringing Mark to the present.

"It tells us that maybe the relationship between Duke and Jesse was much stronger than we thought," Mark said, sitting back in his chair and taking off his glasses. "It is the strangest case that I have ever seen but Jesse helped him for a reason. Maybe he understood." A look of pure confusion crossed his face. "But I still don't understand why he'd jeopardize the whole case for Duke Lotella's sake. Machu Lie could go to prison for the rest of his life and the real killer is lose somewhere out there. Not to mention the one that started the fire. We still have no way of getting closer to that."

"I don't know how Machu Lie could have gotten hold of liquid potassium," Amanda remarked skeptically. She paused and looked at the two Sloan's. "So—err—are we mad at Jesse?"

"Yes," Steve replied sternly. "Well, I am anyway." Mark didn't say anything. "He had _no right _to take a potential witness and killer and just let him go like that. Sure, Duke's life is not in danger any more but others will be from him. Why couldn't Jesse just see? You do not make friends with those kind of people."

The doorbell suddenly rang and the three friends turned to look at one another. When it was obvious that the two Sloan's weren't going to get it, Amanda decided to get up, also to get out of the tension of the room. She cursed herself along the way for creating this kind of situation. But inside herself, she was also mad with Jesse. She went towards the front door, opened it and raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Hi." The woman at the door was tall and dignified and this time, her smile was not fake but somewhat shy. It was the receptionist from Carl Grave's company. She was dressed casually with her hair long and Amanda hardly recognized her until she heard her voice. "Is this—um—the Sloan's residence?" she asked nervously, looking round the house. A panicked look crossed her face as if she thought she had got the wrong house and was about to make a complete fool of herself.

Amanda nodded. "Yes, sure, come in," she said, stepping aside. The receptionist entered the room and was led by Amanda up to the Sloan's.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were eating. Usually I make appointments for things like this but—I just didn't think about it this time."

Steve looked up from over the counter when he saw the woman come in and took in the attractive woman. He lost his breath for a few moments and smiled slightly. No one else noticed. "Hi," he said and the woman turned to look at Steve, smiling slightly again as well. "How can we help you?"

"Lieutenant Sloan?" the woman asked and Steve nodded. "Hi, I'm Danielle Payton: I'm the other secretary for Carl Graves. I've been out of town for two days and I only just come back and heard of Machu Lie's arrest. He didn't kill Carl, I _know _he didn't."

This took a little time to sink into Steve. He was still taking in the woman's presence. She looked so—beautiful. Long brown hair, green eyes and even though casually dressed, she looked attractive. "So…um…can you prove that Mr. Lie didn't kill his boss?"

Danielle Payton nodded sharply. "I can. I was with him at the time of the murder. I knew that he had had a confrontation with Mr. Graves at the party. I was at the party as well and Machu and I were…well, we were close at the time. Machu wasn't invited to the party but I helped him get in. When Mr. Graves just blew him off like that after their talk, he came straight to me. He was with me when Mr. Graves was found dead."

Steve frowned. He was getting into the cop mode now that he had substantial pieces of information, which proved Machu's innocence. "Machu Lie never had intentions to kill Carl Graves?"

Danielle shook her head. "No, no, definitely not. Machu is just…he's incapable of doing such things. He doesn't even _own _a gun."

"I wasn't talking about owning a gun. Whoever wanted Carl Graves dead hired a hitman to do the job for him. Do you know if Machu had been doing any deals with anyone." Danielle shook her head. "Do you know if Machu Lie could have gotten his hands on some liquid potassium or Cyanide?"

Danielle smiled slightly. "Machu doesn't know anything about medicine. He can't even tell apart a paracetamol from a sherbet candy. His line of work revolved around business and companies. Sure, he knew where he could get some but I doubt he knew what they could do. Machu prided himself in his own medicines—you know, oriental herbal concoctions and stuff."

Steve nodded. _Oh well, you learn more about someone every day,_ he said to himself. "Machu Lie handed Carl Graves a drink. It had the poison Cyanide in it. Machu didn't do that?"

Danielle shook her head. "No, he couldn't have." He frowned in thought. "I think…I think someone gave that drink to him to give to Carl…I just, can't remember who it was. Tall-ish kind of man. Very blond hair, almost white, blue eyes, looks like he's in his late twenties…"

Mark snapped his fingers. "Jamie Condrack." 

Amanda looked at him perplexed. "Jamie Condrack? Now why would he want to have Carl Graves's dead? As far as we know, they have no connection. The first time they ever met was at the party last week."

Mark shrugged. "Well…I don't know. Both Doctor Garrison and Carl Graves were German—they both had institutions in Germany and Jamie Condrack was after all in Dr Garrison's Surgical Institution. Carl Graves is very well known in Germany. Surely they would have met on some other occasion. Jamie knew about Carl Graves for sure."

Steve sighed. "It would take a lot of digging and interrogation from Jamie to find out why he wanted to kill Carl. And where would he have got the money from as well, like you said?"

Amanda shrugged. "Rich parents?"

Danielle looked at both of them. She smiled slightly with the detectives at work but she was here for a reason. "So…um," she started to say, "what's going to happen to Machu? I know he didn't do this and surely…surely there's enough to get him out. If not, I'll pay for his bail. I have enough money."

Steve shook his head, looking at the woman again. "No, no, Mrs. Payton, that won't be necessary. I think with your testimony—provided that you do swear that under oath—I should be able to release Machu Lie by tomorrow morning."

****

Danielle smiled at him, thanked him and then went towards the door, saying a goodbye along the way. Steve watched her go out for a few moments, liking what he saw and smiled as well. Mark and Amanda glanced at each other, both having a mischievous look in their eyes. "You're smitten," Amanda said when Steve finally turned back towards them. When he looked at them in confusion, both Mark and Amanda laughed.


	14. Part 2--Chapter 7

It's been quite a while since I (but then again ANYONE) has posted anything up due to the problems of fanfiction.net. But to save all you lot having to read the story again, I'll give you a quick recap about how Jesse has helped Duke escape from the hospital. No one really knows where he is now, not even Jesse himself. Mark, Steve and Amanda are far from happy with it. Danielle Payton, Carl Grave's secretary and Machu's lover has helped Machu out of prison. That now leaves a number of possibilities of who the killer might be such as Jamie and many others!!  
  
  
  
THE SHAFT  
  
  
  
Part 2 - Chapter 7  
  
  
  
Mark was half way through his day at yet another time at Community General. Norman had been up and down him all day, asking him whether there were sightings of Duke Lotella; work of Duke Lotella; hearings of Duke Lotella and even smells of Duke Lotella. Mark had said that there was nothing yet and Norman left in an even worse state than he had come in. Mark silently prayed he wouldn't go into his office and hang himself with his tie. "I see so many cops round here because of your investigations that sometimes I forget this is a respectable hospital. One day," he said, "I shall look outside my window on the thirtieth floor and jump." He looked defiant when he said that at the time.  
  
Mark had just laughed. "They say your eyes go first."  
  
Norman put a hand up to his glasses, whimpering slightly. Then he ran off. Mark smiled as he recalled the memory when Norman left him after inquiring about Duke. Then he carried on into the hospital. There, he spotted Jesse working on a clipboard at reception. He was writing furiously, his face frowning as though he wanted to get this over and done with quickly. Mark decided that maybe he should talk to him now. However annoyed Mark was with him, he knew that Jesse would listen to him, after all, he was his mentor. Jesse put the clipboard down, smiled at the nurse behind the reception desk and turned round to walk away.  
  
Now or never, Mark thought to himself. "Jesse!" he called out after the doctor. The young man paused in the middle of the corridor. Mark could see he was debating whether to turn around. After several seconds of thought, the doctor started off again down the corridor without a recollection that he'd heard anything or wanted to stop. He was walking faster. "Jesse! Jesse, wait," Mark said. He knew he wouldn't catch up with him. Sighing with exasperation, Mark turned round to walk the other way, hoping that he could catch up with Jesse later.  
  
But as it happened, Jesse made no contact with Mark at all. Nor was he anywhere to be seen. He was never in the doctor's lounge, in the sleeping room or in the cafeteria. Paging him would prove no help at all because he probably wouldn't come and Mark was certain he hadn't gone anywhere. That meant he was still somewhere in the hospital probably doing rounds and pulling in extra. Wherever he was, and whatever he was doing, he was making a very good job of keeping out of the way.  
  
Amanda joined him in the doctor's lounge later on, armed with a tray full of only an apple and fruit juice. "Something about Steve's cooking last night has made me seriously full even till the next morning. Tell your son that next time he makes a meal make it light and savory." She sat down next to him when Mark just hummed in agreement and noticed the deep thought look in his eyes. He was in a world a million miles away where the great mind worked. "Hey, Mark, what are you thinking about?" Mark turned towards her, his eyes losing the faraway gaze.  
  
"Oh, nothing. Just back to the case again. About suspects and motives and.other things."  
  
"Other things meaning Duke Lotella?"  
  
"Something like that." He sighed and put his hands on his knees, shaking his head at the same time. "I was wondering if there was any way we could get Duke back and do a deal which would make both him and Jesse happy. I know we are all annoyed at Jesse-Steve is angrier than anything else. But.as annoyed as I am with him, I don't want a rift between us. It would be impossible to work with someone who you don't get along with."  
  
Amanda nodded. "I understand. What was your idea?"  
  
"Well, I was thinking of something Jesse had considered beforehand- about immunity. Duke is the only who can tell us about who hired him. He would have papers and even testify. The only reason he's not coming forward is because he knows there's a jail cell for him. But if he came back and we gave him immunity to another state or even another country then maybe he would consider it."  
  
"How would we do that?" Amanda asked. "After all, he could very well be in a different state now. There's no reason for him to stay in California let alone LA. There would be no way to contact him and he would not listen to us. He only listens to Jesse and well.you know."  
  
Mark nodded. "There is no way that he would listen to us and even to Steve, who is a cop. He only listened to Jesse then and he would only listen to him now. Jesse is hardly going to listen to us at the moment." Mark ran a hand over his face. "Maybe the idea wouldn't work. But somehow we have to talk to Jesse. He's doing very well with avoiding us all day. I've seen him once this morning and not even a glimpse of him since."  
  
Amanda raised her eyebrows and bit into her apple for the first time. "Yeah, well, I'm not surprised."  
  
"I think I'm going to call Steve," Mark said a few seconds later and got up to get his cell phone. He dialed Steve's number and after a few rings his son picked up the phone. "Hey, Steve? Yeah, it's dad. I was wondering what was happening at the station." He listened as Steve relayed the day's events. "Well, I'm going to be at the hospital till into the night-I got the late shift till one in the morning. Do you think Jesse will turn up at barbecue bob's tonight?"  
  
"Maybe, I don't know?"  
  
"Well, it's just that I've never known him to run out on his duties. He could be there tonight and he's been avoiding us all day. Can you talk to him, Steve, see if you can get something out of him. It's possible-just possible that Jesse might not know something."  
  
Steve gave a low hum down the phone. "To be honest with you, it'd be a good idea if Jess stayed out of my way. He's liable to get his head bitten off. I'm far from angry with him." Mark knew by the tone of his voice that he meant it.  
  
"Well, Steve could you just try?"  
  
Mark waited for an answer from Steve and could hear him sigh as he thought about it. "All right, I'll try. But I doubt it will come out any good."  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
  
Steve had relayed all the day's events to his dad before he put the phone down. He had let Machu Lie go for starters. The Japanese man bowed down before him graciously. "Thank you, Steve-o-san," he said. "And be sure to thank you father as I am certain he was a part of this as well."  
  
Steve couldn't help but smiling slightly. "Actually no. It was Danielle Payton."  
  
Even Machu smiled but it was a different one to Steve's. It seemed to brighten his whole face up. "Danielle? Really?" He shook Steve's hand this time. "I must go see her. Thank you." With that, he walked out of the station a much happier man. Steve shook his head and watched him go as he turned back round. He still had another thing to deal with before the things on his 'to do' list he created last night. As he returned to his desk, he found there was someone already sitting in the seat, slouched low with his chin in his hand and a hand tapping him on the desk.  
  
"Ah, Jamie," Steve said, sitting in front of his desk. Jamie Condrack's face remained expressionless but his icy blue eyes narrowed, giving the impression of someone evil. To Steve, it was amazing how the young doctor could radiate such hate and loathing from him. He was a regular calm and collected villain from a comic book. "I'm glad you weren't doing very much and were able to come down."  
  
Jamie gave a sarcastic smile and lost it immediately. "Well, I didn't have much choice when two police officers arrived at my door and told me to come down the station. Running away would only have made it all look worse."  
  
Steve leaned forward. "Why, do you have something to hide?"  
  
Jamie's face didn't change at all. "Officer-sorry lieutenant Sloan-I have nothing to hide. I have been here for just over a week. What could I possibly have done wrong in such a short space of time?"  
  
Steve smiled pleasantly. "Committed a murder. Possibly two."  
  
"Are you accusing me of killing someone Lieutenant Sloan?" Jamie demanded calmly. "Are you saying that I killed Carl Graves at that party and then Jeanie Morgstone."  
  
"I'm not saying. I'm speculating."  
  
"Well, keep on imaging and dreaming up fairy stories," Jamie said, leaning back with obviously not a trace of a nervousness in him. "I didn't even know Carl Graves-barely met him at the party. What reason would I have for killing him and how would I have managed? I hear he was poisoned and then shot by a hitman who seems to have escaped from you. And then the place was burnt with liquid potassium. Where do you think I could have got those things from in such a short space of time? And Jeanie. I didn't kill her." He paused for a brief few moments. "I loved her."  
  
Steve frowned. "How long did you know Miss Morgstone for?"  
  
Jamie rolled his eyes. "I've told you. I only met her first at the party. She was upset. Carl Graves had abandoned her and I was there to comfort. It just got better and better."  
  
"Is that not a motive for murder."  
  
"Not in my eyes it isn't lieutenant," Jamie snapped at him, his eyes growing cold again.  
  
"Tell me, Jamie," Steve carried on, interrupting him, "did you really leave the room to go to find the men's toilets? I'm beginning to doubt your story very much. Why did you really go down there?" Jamie didn't answer. "You know that I think? I actually think you intended to go there when you saw Jesse Travis leaving for the elevator. You did stop that elevator, didn't you?"  
  
Jamie looked harshly at Lieutenant Sloan. His eyes were still narrow and cold. He prided himself in his ways of not letting a trace of emotion show. It had also grown with the hate of many things in his lifetime. His eyes and face gave nothing away and his voice was always calm and collective, never breaking off. But he knew those walls were caving in? Should he give in now, considering no harm had been done to Travis in the first place. "All right," he said frostily. "I went there to stop the elevator. I saw Travis leaving and I thought it was the perfect opportunity to finally get my own back on something."  
  
"Pretty childish, don't you think?" Steve asked incredulously.  
  
Jamie's expression still didn't change. "What can I say, I'm young at heart. Lieutenant Sloan, if you had suffered what I'd suffered you would realize that sometimes the only ways are the pathetic ones. I knew it was pathetic but still enjoyable. I stopped the elevator. I had been taught not to kill. I am a doctor to save lives not kill. I didn't mean harm to come to him in an elevator."  
  
Steve looked back down at his sheet. "Still, being out of the room at the time all hell broke lose-that gives you the opportunity to be able to start the fire, doesn't it."  
  
Jamie smiled, a cruel form of amusement playing on his lips and his eyes for a moment seemed to glow. He leaned forward towards Steve. "You're forgetting one thing Lieutenant Sloan: The elevators stopped automatically when a fire starts. I stopped the elevator literally seconds before the fire started, as you very well noticed. How could I have started the fire or put the liquid potassium there fast enough."  
  
Steve could feel himself getting irritated. The Doctor was much smarter than he thought. He had Steve hanging in a balance now. How could he hold Jamie now? What he was saying was true. Liquid potassium would have been instantaneous; Jamie could not have got back there in time after shutting down the elevator. Steve partly believed him when he said that he had been the one to shut down the elevator in order to have his tiny revenge against Jesse. But he was still considering whether Jamie was capable of killing.  
  
Jamie chuckled slightly and sat back again, his hands on the arms of the chair in front of Steve's desk. "You have nothing, Lieutenant Sloan. You can't keep me here so if you don't mind, I have things to do. I came to LA to relax and enjoy, not to be interrogated."  
  
Steve tapped a pencil on the piece of paper in front of him. "You handed Carl Graves a glass or a drink, didn't you? Was it spiked with Cyanide? We have a witness that saw you give the glass to Machu Lie. That glass had something in it and you could have easily put in something." Jamie had stood up at this point and grabbed his jacket to put on properly. Now he turned back to Steve, a look of pure shock on his face. He wasn't expecting that, Steve thought. Jamie didn't say anything for a few seconds.  
  
"What?" he whispered sitting in front of Steve again. "I had nothing to do with it. Sure, I may have given the drink to Carl. That's how we first met but all he said was that I was a good student of Dr Garrison's, that he spoke highly of me and then he went off to do this own thing. I didn't poison it at all. I don't carry Cyanide around in pocket just like that. Dr Garrison gave it to me and I gave it to someone else." Steve, if he knew Jamie Condrack better, would have reeled back in shock at the doctor's reaction. Jamie had lost all his calm and smooth attitude. He was almost red in the face, bursting with anger or maybe it was fear and desperation, whilst his hands gripped the seats tightly. His eyes were wide with the same expression as his face.  
  
Steve paused for a few moments, studying Jamie Condrack. He suddenly wondered how capable this man was of murdering Carl. There seemed no logic to it and the succession of events just didn't fit in with the facts they already knew about the case. Steve knew he couldn't even hold him for a little while. The lack of forensic evidence destroyed in the fire made it impossible. But Steve didn't want to hold him anyway. Steve was a cop, yes, but if he had learned anything about crime fighting from his father, it was to sometimes trust your instincts. And Steve's half-mingled cop and personal instincts were that Jamie couldn't possibly have done it. "All right," he said to the doctor. "I'll believe you for now. But get out of here and don't leave LA until this mess is cleaned up." Jamie calmed down and got his jacket. "Jamie." The blond turned round wordlessly. "Why do you hate Jesse so much?"  
  
Jamie looked at the cop for a moment, a lot of deep feeling in his eyes and still that serious face. Jamie put his hands on top of the chair and looked at Steve right in the eyes. "I don't know why I hate him. What I did was my own fault. I was friends with the Dean's son. He was my best friend. He was getting all the answers because Scott was never bright. He got the answers for me and it was just a kick. Then it became an obsession. I stopped working and depended on those cheats. Then Jesse saw me. Jesse was always a joker and a regular class clown. We didn't get along so he ratted on me-he was joker but he always played by the rules. I guess he didn't expect me to get kicked out."  
  
Steve shook his head. "Then why are you still hating? Was it because he stole your girlfriend."  
  
Jamie shrugged. "I suppose it was partly that. I'm not even sure of myself any more. Once you start hating someone for a long time, it's hard to forget. It's even harder to forget when someone almost ruined your career. When I got thrown out of Minnesota for cheating, I thought that was it. I sat in my room for hours on end wishing and dreaming that Jesse Travis would die and imagining how I would do it in my head. If I didn't kill Travis now, then why would I bother killing Carl Graves, who I only knew for a few minutes."  
  
The blond doctor shook his head, realizing what he was saying. "Anyway, just forget it. That's all over now. I still hate Jesse but at least I got my medical degree and I'm happy with what I'm doing. Don't make me hate you as well Lieutenant Sloan, for putting my in jail and ruining my second chance."  
  
Steve sighed and leaned back in his chair, still holding his pen. No Criminal gets many second chances. He watched Jamie glide out of the door.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Machu left the police station and went straight to the officers of Carl Graves. The world seemed almost desolate and empty without him. Usually they would go out for a drink, or go for a meal, either go to Carl Grave's rash mansion on the other side of LA or Machu's small but very oriental and cozy house not far away. But all that had faded. Now everything seemed empty and all Machu had to look forward to was going to work again and sitting at his desk. Who was he working for? Machu sighed regretfully and decided to make his way to work even though there was nothing to work on. There hadn't been in ages.  
  
As he walked through the large oak doors, he just look at the ground as he walked, his usually proud and dignified posture now sagging as though resigning. "Machu!" someone cried and the Japanese man turned round, seeing Danielle get out of here seat and come towards him. She was smiling, her secretary uniform and tied back hair making her look like a schoolteacher but she was still attractive. He smiled slightly at her but it didn't reach his eyes.  
  
"I heard that they were releasing you but they never told me when," she said. "Otherwise I would have come down to see you." Machu simply nodded. "Why are you back here, though? You should be here anyway. You should be at home and I would have come to see you later. Don't be here."  
  
Machu shook his head. "One has duties to attend to."  
  
Danielle frowned in confusion. "What work? You can't possibly expect to work. Anyway, you did it all last week. There is nothing on you desk, I don't think."  
  
Machu bowed his head slightly. "There is more to work than papers and pens." He walked through the doors leaving a saddened Danielle behind as the doors closed him and he retired to his desk. Machu was also upset. There were days that he would spend with Danielle every day. He would deliberately take any small thing over to her desk so that he could see her. They would exchange tender moments but now that Carl Graves was dead, the fun seemed to be sucked out of it. Machu had learned many things in America but he was still an upright and upstanding man. He had given up and retired to his own ways.  
  
Machu sat at his desk and ran a hand through his jet-black hair. It was only then that he noticed a while manila envelop on his desk, an A5 size. He took it lazily and opened it with a decorated envelope opener and looked inside. The emblem on the top read 'Farber & Son's Solicitors.' This peaked up his interest and he opened the letter further to read it. Dear Mr. Lie. We are pleased to inform you and to ask whether you make come to a meeting to discuss the final announcements of the will of Mr. Carl Graves. We understand there is a very large sum in your name and would be grateful if you could attend.  
  
Machu smiled over his hands. Money is everything in America, he thought, laughing.  
  
  
  
  
  
END OF PART 2 


	15. Part 3--Chapter 1

THE SHAFT

Part 3 — Chapter 1

          Steve Sloan watched his partner scrubbing down the last table work top where someone had just left. He had been busy all evening. Jesse had not stopped to chat, to discuss something or even made eye contact with him. Steve found it annoying. Even in the same room, Jesse was trying to avoid him and doing a very good job in the process. All night he had either been cooking, cleaning, washing or serving. It was driving Steve insane as his usually laid back and lazy partner was not bustling around and all Steve had to do get money from the customers and wave them goodbye out of the door. Mark and Amanda had been in to get them something to eat and Jesse had disappeared into the kitchen, making Steve do it.

          They had left a while back but before they did, Mark said to his son, "Talk to him now or else you'll never get the chance. He may not come back, you know."

          Steve threw up his hands. "How can I talk to him when he's Sonic the Hedgehog."

          Mark smiled. "Even Sonic slows down eventually."

          Steve said bye to his father and Amanda as the remaining customers were just about to pack up. Now Steve was sitting behind the counter, just finishing with one of their frequent customers. But he wasn't paying total attention as every now and again his eyes would cast over to Jesse. _Hell, why doesn't he just stop and calm down for a second. It would look so obvious if I asked him to come over and talk to him. I want to do this naturally however mad I am._

          Across the room, Jesse was thinking as well. _I know he's watching me. He's been doing it all night. Godammit, Jesse, how are youy going to get out of this? You can't avoid him all night. Sooner or later he will come out of it and a fight will come out. A horrible thought shuddered through Jesse making him pause half way through wiping. __What if I lost my best friend? Steve could be classed as the best friend he ever had since moving to Community General. They were partners. And he woud lose him?_

          _You're really good at this Jesse. You just have a way with losing friends._

          Jesse returned back afterwards behind the counter. Both men continued working in silence for a few seconds, Jesse drying more and Steve counting the money. The silence was deafening and all that could be heard was the remains of the clanging in the background and the ticking of the clock above them on the wall. 

          "—are you going to shut tonight?"

          "—are you going to shut tonight?"

          Both questions were asked at the same time as both men turned round to look at each other in the eyes for the first time. For a few moments they stood there in silence, looking at each other, wondering who was going to look away first. It was the first time that Jesse had spoken to Steve and it would be the first time Steve replied in days. Jesse finally tore his eyes away.

          "I will," Steve agreed, sitting down on a chair and looking at the young doctor. Jesse was frowning slightly, as though he was annoyed at something but at the same time looking uncomfortable as though he would rather be anywhere else but here. Steve put an elbow on the counter and leaned on it as Jesse turned around as if he was about to walk away. "Why did you do it?" he suddenly asked, cutting the silence of the restaurant.

          Jesse stopped and put both hands on the counter, staring at it and not at Steve. "If I told you, you'd never believe me. You'd hate me even more." With that, he was about to walk into the kitchen.

          "Try me," Steve said. Jesse paused before going to the doorway and then turned around, leaning against the wall, looking at Steve and then up at the ceiling. Steve had never talked like this to Jesse before. It was like talking to a complete stranger for the first time. It made Steve slightly uneasy that they were slowly drifting apart. "Come on, I'm your friend. Can't you tell me."

          That just made Jesse feel even un-easier. _Great lead the guilt trip on me, he thought. "Because, despite the fact that Duke was a a hired professional killer, despite the fact that he was wanted in over twenty states and despite the fact he's the wrong sort or mix, I actually liked the guy. Believe it or not, you can still have a fun conversation with him. He is a normal person. Besides…I promised him."_

          "Promised him what?" Steve demanded. Jesse sighed and shook his head. "Jess, tell me."

          Jesse looked down at the floor. "In the building. It's not that you couldn't find us in it, it was because we were avoiding you. I promised that if I got him out of the building that he would go free without killing me and we would forget any of this would ever happened. Well, he landed in hospital. And I had to get him out, like we promised. But this time, it wasn't about that he was going to kill. He couldn't kill me anymore."

          Steve rolled his eyes. "Great, a killer with a conscience."

          Jesse turned round, his eyes flashing slightly. "Why don't you start acting like a human being rather than a cop. You've mixed with the wrong kind. You've dated king pin's daughters, tabloid newspaper journalists—how different is this. Only this time I'm not in any danger."

          Steve also narrowed his eyes. "I'm acting like a cop because this is a police investigation. Duke Lotela should have gone to prison. Think of all the people he's killed. Think of all the people he's gonna kill. Did that pass through your head or were you too caught up in friendship to realize? He could also have identified the killer. We still have no clue who killed Carl Graves." Jesse didn't say anything. That was the one disadvantage he had seen letting Duke go. "What did he do, Jesse? What made you two click?"

          Jesse shrugged. He thought he could withstand this, but he couldn't. "I don't even know myself," he replied quietly. "Maybe it was because we were different. Maybe it was because we had to work together to get out? Maybe because in those six hours, I saw past the obvious criminal murdering side of a person and he looked past me as a doctor and life saver. It was strange. But we got along much better than we expected-it's like a connection thing."

          Steve looked at Jesse as though realization just hit him. "Oh, God, Jess, I hope you're not saying what I think you are."

          "I'm not gay!" Jesse shouted loudly, enough to vibrate the walls. "I'm _not," he said as though to convince himself in a quieter tone. "I just got along with the guy, all right. I owed him and now it's done. I'm trying to forget everything that happened. Just leave it now, will you. Shout at me if you want but just forget it."_

          Steve was getting tired with Jesse's arguments. Maybe it was the stress of the case of the captain constantly riding him up his back. "Jesse, I can't forget about it. You let a prime suspect lose. That does not go down well. I do have a right to shout at you. I thought after all the crimes you've solved with us and seen put people away—and after Marcus Lavoy—you wouldn't think of doing something like this. It shows how wrong we were. Maybe you don't quite get it and just tagged along with the fun. But either way you've just blown this whole case up. We're never going to get it sorted now." He walked past Jesse to get out of the counter. "Thanks a lot," he muttered and walked out of Barbecue Bob's.

          Jesse stayed where he was leaning against the wall, looking at the ground. He couldn't look Steve in the face anymore. He had lost the argument and he knew why. There was no point in denying that he made a mistake. He only looked up Steve's back as the detective slammed the door behind him and walked to his car leaving Jesse to lock up. Steve was mad, yes, as he walked away but in the cool night air, he calmed down and his angry stride to the car lessened slightly. He suddenly stopped and looked ahead of him.

          "Shit," he said, when he thought back to the scene inside. He was meant to talk to him, his dad said, not blow his top off. "What have I done?!" He looked back at the restaurant. The light was still on and Steve decided not to go back inside. Now certainly wasn't the time.

          Jesse remained in the silence inside Barbecue Bob's for a moment, noticing that the cooks had left as well. He was by himself. Then suddenly, he kicked out at the nearest chair sending it flying against the wall. "Dam you, Duke!" he shouted through the restaurant. "I hate you! I wish I never met you! You've been a waste just like you were to anything else. You're not worth anything and you just cost me the best things I ever had."

          Jesse was suddenly drained of energy. He leaned against the counter of Barbecue Bob's, put his head in between his knees and closed his eyes.

*  *  *  *  *

          Haley looked at her watch. It was past eleven o'clock. She was very tired. She had spent the day working and then went out with some friends for dinner. The day had been tiring. She only had one call from Jesse which meant that he had probably been busy all day with long shifts. Now, she thought, it was time to go home. Jesse had been acting very strangely the last few days and she was worrying about him. He seemed very uncommunicative and distant. In the evenings, he seemed either distratced, absorbed in work or in a far away place. He just wasn't the normal Jesse and that worried Haley slightly so she decided to leave the party early and see how things were doing. He was at Barbecue Bob's again tonight.

          She came up to the stairs of the apartment she was sharing with Jesse for a while and took out her keys. Haley laughed as she recalled the events of the evening and how fun it had been. She laughed when she thought of the jokes they shared, how her friend Carey had spent almost three thousand in a week on boutiques and how everyone crowded round the photo of Jesse in her wallet. She fished out the keys and opened her door, opening it and coming inside. "Jess, I'm back…" she said, stopping herself short suddenly.

          The apartment was in complete darkness in the living room. The blinds had been drawn and every light was switched off. The only sign of light was from the kitchen where the luminous dial read 11.03 on the microwave. Haley frowned slightly and then felt a little bit uneasy. "Jesse?" she asked quietly, wondering where he was. Had something happened to him? She heard a sharp intake of air from somewhere and in a stretch of fear, flicked the lights on in the living room. The yellow glow covered the room and Haley blinked a few times to get her eyes to adjust.

          The apartment was in no state at all. In fact, it seemed as though nothing had happened to it. Nothing had been touched; nothing was out of place; there was no threatening message painted on the walls; no ransom note on the table and Haley felt slightly at ease. Then she smiled when she spotted the figure of her boyfriend spread out on the couch, face towards the back of it and his eyes closed, in an obvious state of sleep. One arm had fallen over the edge and rested just above the ground, the other curled up by his face. Haley smiled and came down the stairs into the living room.

          She went over to him and shook him slightly. "Jesse," she whispered in his ear. Jesse didn't reply but carried on sleeping. Peering over him, Haley could see that he was restless. He was frowning slightly. There were dark lines under his eyes indicating lack of sleep and they also seemed rather red. Haley shook him again. "Jess, come on, wake up. You can't spend the night on the couch." Jesse groaned and turned his head the other way. Slowly, he opened his eyes and through blurred vision, saw his girlfriend.

          "Haley?" he muttered.

          Haley nodded and sat on the ground in front of him. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. Jesse closed his eyes again and then Haley pulled away. "What's wrong, Jess?" she asked, giving him a look.

          Jesse turned laid his head back down on the couch again. "Nothing's wrong."

          Haley couldn't believe that Jesse was still denying it when it was really obvious. She put her hand on and brushed away Jesse's hair from his forehead. "That's a lie," she stated. "Come on, it's been going on for days. Did you think I was just going to brush it aside or notice? Do you think your friends are not going to notice."

          Jesse cringed slightly. "That's if I have any friends left."

          "What do you mean?"

          "It means exactly what it sounds like," Jesse said a little bit too harshly than he intended. He just shook his head and groaned. "I don't know. It's just this business with Duke Lotella and how much trouble it's causing me. I may have lost everything."

          "Tell me," Haley insisted.

          Jesse sat up and Haley sat next to him. He recounted how he had been avoiding them still but had been working at barbecue Bob's. He talked about the argument he had with Steve and what had happened during it. Jesse had spent half an hour in Barbecue Bob's afterwards disposing of the chair he ruined when he kicked it into the wall and then spent ages locking up before finally getting into his car and driving back home where he had been ever since. Haley could see how this was affecting Jesse. Mark, Steve and Amanda as friends meant a lot to him. He valued their friendship.

          "Well, if you thought what you did was right, then what right do they have to challenge your personal opinion—but to _hate you would prove that maybe they weren't the right kind of friends."_

          Jesse shook his head. "That can't be true. I've known them for…ages."

          "It's happening now," Haley pointed out and Jesse became silent, shaking his head. Haley put her arms around him. "I'm not saying it's going to remain this way. It's just something that's happening along the line. No one can hate anyone forever and especially when you've been friends for so long."

          "Jamie Condrack still does."

          "Jamie Condrack is basing his hatred over some school thing that happened a long time ago. You hardly ruined his life. And you have hardly ruined Mark, Steve's and Amanda's life. Duke Lotella is just something that's happened. It's eventually going to go away. Mark should know that some murders could not be solved. Duke was never going to tell you who hired him. You may have softened him a little but you can't break what he really is and he's a killer who keeps those identities secret until the last straw. What you did was right."

          "But what I did has also blown a case apart." Jesse ran his hands through his hair. "I find more things wrong with what I did and less right and that reason stands out the strongest. Steve was right: all my years working with him on cases and I go and do this? What kind of friend am _I to do something like this? Now I could have lost them. How the hell am I gonna be able to work at the hospital and at Barbecue Bob's when the people I work with hate me."_

          Haley put a hand on Jesse's cheek and made him face her. "Jess, sometimes friendship is a very strange thing. It varies. Sometimes our friends feel good and that makes us feel good too. It makes you think that life is perfect. Then friends suddenly change and go off with another person and then we feel down. We want to have some attention and we know that it isn't going to come from then and you think twice about the friends that you got. Maybe you've done that before when it came to Day or even Duke."

          Jesse frowned. "Are you saying they're jealous?"

          "Maybe."

          Jesse thought for a second and then smiled despite his tired eyes. He pushed Haley down so he was looking down at her. "Where would I be without you?" he asked and kissed her again on her cheek, her lips and down her neck. Haley laughed and ran her hands through his light sandy hair. "I'd be lost…maybe lonely…I'd still be here on this couch moping." He kissed further down her neck and would have carried on if Haley hadn't stopped him.

          "Hey," she said lightly, pushing his face away slightly. "Don't push your luck. I know you love me and I love you too but…" she paused for a second, looking at Jesse's confused face, "it's not very comfortable on the couch, as I said. How about this goes into the bedroom?" Jesse smiled, lifted her up and carried her into the darkened bedroom a few meters away.

*  *  *  *  *

          Haley didn't wake up to birds chirping or the radio blasting through the air waves. She woke up to no sound. It was totally quiet in the apartment. She looked towards the door with which her side of the bed was on and then turned around, giving a slight moan with her eyes closed and prepared to wrap her arm around Jesse again. Her arm and hand were met with the feeling of cotton sheets. Haley opened her eyes and found that Jesse was not there. She spun round to look at her alarm clock which read 8.30 am. "Oh man, he's at the hospital already. And I'm late for work."

          She got out of bed quickly and had a shower, changed and went into the kitchen to fix herself a breakfast. A note from Jesse told her that he wasn't on the night shift tonight and would be back around five o'clock. She read the note as she ate her cereal and at the same time, tried to pour the orange juice into the glass and not succeeding. With a low groan, Haley grabbed some paper towels quickly and continued to wipe up the mess that she had spilled over the counter and down the cupboards.

          "Boy, my boss is going to kill me," Haley muttered to herself as she dumped them in the bin. Haley had only started her job a few months ago in a law enforcement office. The job was monotonously boring. Haley knew how to type anyway despite her lavish style beforehand and she was incredibly bright for a girl who had been spoilt by her parents once. The job was hardly exciting but it paid well and if all she had to do was fill out the forms, pass them on and arrange files into alphabetical order for other workers then what was the problem? Her boss was. Mr. Starker was as hard as iron. It seemed as though everything was done on a naval ship. Everything had to be done on time or else it wasn't good enough. Haley was reminded of the same routine as with her once guardian, Sharon Weston.  

          The other thing Haley hated was the clothing. The plainclothes office work suits were definitely not her style. They were so plain gray, navy blue or brown. Haley didn't come in again in red after a certain incident. She didn't want to stand out that much so she resorted back to horrible colors. Jesse had commented once how the suits with their short skirts made her look sexy. It didn't seem to make it that bad then, Haley thought to herself afterwards.

          The doorbell of the apartment rang and Haley cursed. She hadn't even finished her breakfast, she still had to find her keys from last night and get to the offices before half past nine. The doorbell rang again. "Coming!" she shouted out and grabbed her bowl of cereal with her to the door. "Who is it!" she shouted distractedly, trying to make her way over to the door.

          "A friend," the voice said. If Haley hadn't been so distracted, she would have noticed the tone in the other person's voice. "Open up, please."

          "Yep, yep, I'm coming, be right there," Haley continued to say. Tripping of the garments she and Jesse had thrown off the night before, she made her way up the stairs to the front door and, balancing the bowl in one hand, grabbed the doorknob and opened it, revealing the person. "Hi, sorry it too so long but I was rather busy and late for my work…" Haley cut off in mid-sentence and looked at the person in the doorway. Her mouth opened in surprise and she dropped her bowl, milk and cereal spreading everywhere. She screamed loud as a hand came towards her mouth, cutting off her cries for help.


	16. Part 3--Chapter 2

THE SHAFT

Part 3 — Chapter 2

          Jim Ross looked up at what was now left of the hotel. Smoke had stopped smoldering, the building was in bad need of repair and refurbishing but the fire was out and people had been saved. That was his job that what he was meant to do. Jim was standing outside of the building, looking up at the seventh floor. The gaping hole still stood in the side of the hotel but that was another matter. Throwing his cigarette on the ground and stamping it out, Jim went back inside the building to his team that still crowded the seventh floor. On the way up he met his colleague and long time partner Hyder Mitchell. "God, where did you spend the night," Hyder commented. "Looks like you had a one way ticket to hell."

          Jim shrugged sleepily. "Close enough. I went down to one of them bars and went home with someone." He winked at Hyder who only shook his head. "I know, I know, I shouldn't be doing any more late nights but I had a break."

          Hyder rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Well, come on, what have we got. I only came back from vacation two days ago. I have no idea what's been happening here."

          Jim gave a bitter laugh. "Believe me, you do not wanna know. Total disaster struck here. Some smart-ass dumped liquid potassium in this place to start a fire. Obvious arson but the reason he did it was because a murder had been committed and a distraction was needed—so says my newfound friend from the LAPD. We're just trying to work out a few minor details about how this fire started but so far nothing has come up." He continued to climb up the stairs, beginning to run out of breath. "The roof of the building has been supported and where the blast left a gaping hole the size of Delaware has also been fixed. But that was just water reacting with the potassium again." With as final heave, he got himself up to the seventh floor with Hyder and looked around. "Looks like World War three hit this place."

          Hyder couldn't help smiling. "It usually does when your team are on it."

          Jim gave Hyder a sidelong glance. "My team are simply doing a thorough investigation. We want to get to the bottom of this. Something just doesn't _smell right, you know what I'm saying."_

          Hyder sniffed. "Smells like damp air and smoke to me."

          Jim narrowed his glance. "I'm not talking about the air, I'm talking about this ordeal. I'm going to find out what this is. How could someone have got a substantial amount of liquid potassium and spread it around. It should have caught fire straight away especially with all the other alcohol's and liquids spraying around. So how come it took so long afterwards?" Jim sighed and shook his head and wandered into the room. "Come on, guys, it's been a week, haven't you found anything yet? I've been up on my ass all day and still I've not heard a word for…" Jim carried on ranting and raving at his team of excavators going through the rubble.

          Hyder shook his head. "Thorough investigation," he muttered to himself smiling. It was probably a good idea to stay out of Jim's way. He'd had a good night the night before and now he had woken up feeling rotten, hung over and tired, living on coffee and cigarettes. That wasn't really a good combination when it came to Jim Ross. Also, when he was angry, he looked like a rhino on the warpath and because of his size, he did look rather intimidating. Hyder smiled when he noticed that even some of Ross's team understood his mood and didn't say anything.

          "Well, do we have _anything?" Jim asked. "I got the LAPD crawling up my back asking for something. They got absolutely nothing. They just lost their suspect and can't find any more. Practically all forensic evidence was destroyed in this fire but there has to be __something!" He was out of breath by the time he finished._

          Another one of the fireman stepped forward. He had been the one that recovered Carl Grave's body from the fire. "Sir, we may have something. The reason the blast was so harsh on the right hand side of the room was because all the liquid potassium was only on that side."

          Jim peered at him. "I'm sorry, can you say that again in English?"

          The fireman, with patience that seemed genuine, repeated the finding. "All the liquid potassium was around these three tables on the far right hand side of the hall, far from the stage but facing opposite it. That's why the blast was so strong."

          Jim walked over to him. "There was only liquid potassium here? Nowhere else?" The fireman nodded. "Okay! I want to know who was sitting at this table and I want to know soon! Find out a guest list or something and then tell me before you say anything to the police. I want to know first!" The firemen all nodded and then scattered. Ross took out a handkerchief and wiped his sweating brow. Sometimes he could swear he was training a bunch of firemen rookies in an academy. He looked at Hyder's amused face. "Man, life's a bitch."

          Hyder just shrugged.

*  *  *  *  *

          Mark Sloan looked skeptically at his son across a dead body spread out in Amanda's pathology lab. Amanda was getting on with her work trying to ignore the conversation going on between father and son as she probed through the dead body to find the cause of death. She already had a fairly good idea what it was. Shame, not all bodies produced a murder. Mark, on the other hand, had no interest in that. He looked at Steve was leaning against the counter. "Do you think that was really clever?" he asked his son. "The last thing we needed was to drive him further away from us."

          Steve looked expaserated. "He was already driven—right off the highway! You see how he was avoiding us all the time. Even in the small restaurant we own he was doing a very good job of not talking to me and preoccupying himself with thing he didn't normally do." He smiled at the memory. "You know, that was the easiest day I've ever had in the restaurant. It's not everyday someone offers to do all the dishes."

          Mark narrowed his eyes at his son. "Steve, that's not the point. By shouting at Jesse we have only lost more of our trust." He walked around Amanda, shaking his head. "I don't know, maybe he still knows where Duke Lotella is. I doubt he could have skipped borders that easily. He's our friend, he could have talked to us and not made so many complications." Sarcastically, he muttered, "well, he _was our friend."_

          This was a side that Steve had never seen of his father before. It was as though he was fed up and run down but still rather active. He hardly ever said anything sarcastically. Maybe this whole ordeal with Jesse was wearing him out. Steve knew his father hardly slept. The TV had been on in the early hours of the morning. Steve sighed. "I'm sorry, I don't know what got into me, dad," he confessed. "I was just annoyed and mad. He had been avoiding me all evening. And when I finally got the chance to talk him, he kept with the same excuses. He gave me answers that worried me. He talked about Duke as if he was someone he knew for ages—for as long as us."

          Amanda stopped and put down the instrument she had been using. She had not participated of heard much of what was saying until Steve's little heart warming speech. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy?" she asked.

          Steve looked at her incredulously. "Jealousy? No." But his tone didn't match his words. "What do I have to be jealous about? Let's face it, how could a relationship with Duke and Jesse have lasted anyway? Jesse was talking about how well they clicked together and—and it scared me how two totally different people can get together." He ran his hands through his hair. "And the fact what he was saying had no relevance to the case at all. It was as though he had completely forgotten about it."

          "Well, maybe he had."

          "Whose side are you on?" Steve demanded, turning on her.

          Amanda stood up. "I don't think it's a question about sides, Steve. The important thing is this case or has anyone forgotten. These amends can be made later but we're not going to even be able to start that if we hate each other. We just need to calm down. Now let's just think about the case."

          Steve leaned against the counter again and put a hand to his forehead. "Sorry," he said. "I…I don't know why I'm getting worked up about this." Mark could guess why. It was probably the thought that he had a massive argument with his best friend and was now regretting it. But Mark didn't voice anything. "Oh yeah, the case. Well, I spoke to Jamie Condrack. He admits to stopping the elevator as a practical joke against Jesse. But…he didn't point out a good fact that if he stopped the elevator then how could he spray the liquid potassium. He couldn't have reached their in time."

          "Well, maybe he put it on beforehand?" Amanda suggested.

          Mark should his head. "No, even if he did, it's too risky. If anything came into contact with it, it could have sparked it off. The fire was meant as a distraction." He threw up his hands. "That's yet another suspect practically gone. Who else could there possibly to commit such a crime." The three friends looked silently at one another, not finding an answer. Amanda looked down at her body in thought and Steve glared at linoleum floor of the lab.

          "It probably won't work, seeing as we just put the guy in prison," Steve said, "but we could ask Machu to go through the personnel files. Maybe if we could find someone with a grudge who was at that party then…well you know." He sighed. "I know, it's a long shot but we're beginning to run out of time. My Captain's paging me every thirty minutes and all the time I can give him nothing." Mark looked at his son. "Yes, and I'll try and find Jesse as well." He walked out of the rooms and down the corridors, searching for Jesse. He knew the doctor had a shift until four o'clock, he had to be somewhere around.

          He checked the obvious places and then went to see what patients he could be tending to. But he seemed to be nowhere, as usual. Half way down the hall, Steve spotted Pete Taylor, coming out of one of the other rooms. "Hey, Pete!" he called down to him and the other doctor turned. "You haven't seen Jesse anywhere, have you? I'm trying to find him and he seems to have disappeared."

          Pete laughed. "It seems no one is able to find him these days." He shook his head. "I haven't seen him. Come to think about it, I haven't talked to him in ages."

          Steve patted Pete's shoulder. "Thanks anyway." He carried on down the hallways in search. Pete watched the detective until he was out of sight and then shook his head, replacing one of the bottles on the medicine rack. Thinking they would be safe there on the trolley for a moment, he went down the hall in the opposite direction to Steve and opened the door. There, in an office was Jesse Travis, sitting a desk with a pen and paper in hand. When the door opened, he jumped in shock but then calmed down when he saw it was Pete.

          "You can't stay in here forever you know."

          "I know." Jesse nodded sullenly. "I just don't want to find me yet."

          Pete closed the door for a moment. "You know, running away from them isn't going to solve anything."

          Jesse didn't look up at him. "Do _you think I did the right thing?"_

          Pete shrugged. "Whether it's right or wrong is a matter of opinion," he told him and sighed. "Mark, Steve and Amanda just fail to realize that. Give it time and it will all sort itself out."

          Jesse finally looked up and smiled slightly. "Time is something that I don't actually have."

          Pete shrugged. "You're a doctor, do you ever." He grinned broadly and Jesse's smile widened. "The thing is, Jesse, you have to stop running away like you always used to do." Jesse looked at him in confusion. "You ran away from the Marcus Lavoy problem, you ran away from Jack Stewart when he was pushing you out of the way and now you're actually running away from your friends because you're scared of them."

          Jesse looked at Pete incredulously. "You think I should just waltz into the doctor's lounge right now where they probably are and pretend nothing happened?"

          Pete wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Nope. Not as if nothing had ever happened but as if to show it's not bothering you."

          Jesse laughed as he stood up and headed towards the door. "They'll probably think I'm lying and it may show that it doesn't bother me." Pete simply shrugged. "Thanks." Jesse went out of the door and looked round the corridor.

          Jesse wandered back to the doctor's lounge. He was in need of a coffee or else he thought he was going to pass out from exhaustion. He had been working too hard and he knew it but it seemed the only thing he could do. After his night with Haley, he found himself more tired than usual. The Doctor's lounge was filled with many other people, mainly Med. Students who didn't have classes after lunch or many rounds and therefore occupied most of the small warm room. Jesse wormed his way through the crowd to the little table at the side, got out a mug and poured out the coffee. He didn't notice anyone standing beside him.

          "Tired again?" someone asked.

          Jesse tried his best not to pour the coffee all over the place as he certainly didn't want a bandaged and blistered hand. It had been Mark next to him and he didn't even notice. Jesse tensed up for a second but remembered what Jesse said. _Don't run away from it; let them know that it's not bothering you. Yeah, right, Jesse thought to himself. "Yeah," he finally said. "Something like that." Jesse turned round to go with his coffee._

          "Do you want to come and sit with us?" Mark asked and Jesse paused. Mark couldn't remember his friend looking so torn before and what made it even worse that it was a decision about his friends. When Jesse noticed that Steve was there, he looked even more worried. The last thing he needed was an outbreak like at Barbecue Bob's in the middle of everyone.

          "Er…no," he replied hurriedly. "I've—err—got rounds."

          Mark shook his head. "No you don't. I looked at your schedule. You don't have anything until three o'clock."

          Jesse back away slightly. "Mark, don't do this. Just let me go."

          Mark just came forward. He wasn't trying to drive the man away or make him uncomfortable, it was just that he wanted answers. "Jesse, why aren't you talking to us any more. Don't you feel comfortable around us any more."

          Jesse shook his head. "I…I don't know. I'm just afraid of what you're going to say." He looked round towards the door, desperate to go and leave. Mark could see his anticipation. "And I still don't want to hear it," he persisted. "You can hate me all you want, Mark, just don't say it to my face. I don't think I could manage it any more." For the first time, Mark could see how hurt the younger man was over the whole ordeal. With all the arguments against him, his decision about Duke was rapidly falling and he was regretting everything he had done.

          "Jesse, just listen so I can say that…"

          "No," Jesse interrupted, putting his coffee on the side without drinking it and turning around to head for the doorway. _That's great, Jess, he said to himself. __You ran out of there like a rabbit just escaping from a snare. Now they know it bothers you. Jesse didn't care anymore, though._

          Mark watched the younger doctor go through. He could see Steve and Amanda had got up to see what had happened but no one else seemed to notice. Mark sighed and lowered his head. "…So I can say that Steve is sorry," he said to himself and then added, "we all are."


	17. Part 3--Chapter 3

THE SHAFT

Part 3 — Chapter 3

          Jesse didn't know where he was going. Mark was right. His shift didn't start again till three o'clock so that gave him over three hours to himself. He thought he was going to suffocate if he stayed any longer at that hospital. Norman was still looking at him through narrowed eyes, Pete was trying to give good advice but he couldn't stick to it and his friends—well, he wasn't even sure about them. So, to save himself from the claustophobia of the hospital, he went outside and ran over to his car. He took off his white hospital gown, shoved it in the back and got out his keys to drive out of there before anyone could stop it.

          It was only when he was on the highway that he started to calm down again. His fingers loosened their grip on the steering wheel and he went through the roads, not really sure where he was going. Thoughts were cirling his head over and over again. Finally, he thought so much that he forgot what he had started off in the first place. It was enough to give someone a headache and in the end, Jesse found that there was no point in thinking about it any more. He had thought himself inside out.

          He parked the car outside one of the parks in LA. In the middle of lunch time, it was full of people: small children just out of nursery school, couples walking their dogs, old aged pensioners taking an easy route to the shop or just having a relaxing time. Jesse got out of the car and wandered into the park, looking at the ground and still thinking. Nothing seemed to take his mind away. No one knew where he was. No one probably knew he had left the hospital anyway, so he carried on walking, lost in his own thoughts, only small small sense in the back of his mind warning him if he had to dodge from someone's path.

          Jesse remembered coming to the park once with Steve when they would go running. Steve with a much better build and the fitness of someone who had been on the force for over ten years could easily outrun Jesse but he could remmeber sitting on the park benches and watching the women joggers going by and admiring them—like guys did. Sighing with uncontent, Jesse leaned against a railing which overlooked to the lake. There would be quiet a lot of ducks and other birds landing there. But after a while, kids used to go up to the lake and try to hit the ducks so they had to put a railing round. Jesse watched the calm water of the lake which spanned around a kilometre across. Ocassionally there was an odd ripple when a leaf from a tree fell in or a bird landed on the water. Behind there were cyclists and joggers by themselves of in groups. A bunch of children ran past him playing tag. Jesse barely noticed.

          He rounded up everything. "I had a disaster in that hotel, it was on fire and I was trapped in an elevator. I met Duke Lotella. I became friends with Duke Lotella. I broke my promise to Duke Lotella which made me free Duke Lotella and has now cost me the friendship of my three closest people." He groaned and rested his chin in his hand, still looking out of the water, drowning back the sounds of happiness from behind him.

          Jesse groaned. "Maybe I _should move back to mom in Minessota and just work back there again." Jesse knew what would be a painful decision to make. As much as he loved his mom, he knew that his home was here. It had been for too long. "Dam, it's not my friends that I'm scared of. It's my own guilt. I've done it all wrong and now I can't even face up to it." He picked up a stone and hurled it in to the water, sending a spray of water and ripples along that area. After releasing that bit of frustration he continued looking over the lake._

          He didn't hear anyone approach him from behind. Nor did he sense someone coming up next to him either. All he heard was someone saying, "So, is life really getting that bad?"

          Jesse's head snapped round towards the person. Then he sighed with expaseration and looked back at the lake. "What are you doing here, Duke?" he asked as a lazy question. "I thought I told you to pack your bags and get out of LA?"

          Duke shrugged. "Unfinished business."

          "Oh, what, had another offer to kill someone?"

          Duke shook his head. "No, you." Jesse narrowed his eyes and turned his head back towards Duke again. The man looked the same as before even though he was growing a stubble. His clothes were still new as though he had stolen them from somewhere and Jesse could see the bulge of a new gun by his hip. "What's that then about me? Have you come with your new possession to come and kill me." Duke shook his head and Jesse lost his patience. He turned his whole body round. "I thought we agreed that once I let you free you got out of my life so that I could forget this ever happened."

          "But you haven't forgotten, have you," Duke persisted.

          Jesse's eyes flashed angrily with a spark that made Duke almost cringe. "Listen, what's wrong with me is none of your business. Your'e a hitman. Go back to your little hitman ways and leave me alone."

          "It _is my business," Duke said sternly. "I was the one that caused you all this trouble. I made you get me out of there without stopping you and without thinking about how you could lost your job or even your friends."_

          Jesse glared up at Duke even more. "How can you even speak like that as though you know what it means. How would you know what it's like to lose a friend—you've never even _had a friend." The pent up frustration in Jesse's voice even made his body shake so he didn't even notice the hitman flinch. Jesse had no idea, Duke knew, about the many secrets of his past. There was a lot about him he didn't know. Jesse still carried on._

          "I haven't lost my job, luckily, but I may as well have done compared to all the looks people have been giving me. I don't know if I have friends any more or not. Sometimes they are shouting at me, saying that I've done wrong and sometimes they're understanding. It's just not the way it's meant to work. You're meant to understand people in a friendship and understand what someone needs not doubt them all the time."

          Duke nodded. "And is that what it was like with us?" Jesse frowned in confision. "You were a doctor and I was a hitman. You undersood why I had to get out and helped me. Now I've come back 'cause I understand you need help."

          Jesse sighed and leaned on the railing again. "How did you find me, Duke?"

          Duke smiled slightly. "I was coming round to see how you were, hoping that you'd calmed down a bit so I went round to your house. You girlfriend was there, though." Jesse's head became one of alarm. "Don't worry, I didn't do anything to her. She just got a bit scared when she saw me but dropped her cereal all over my boots." Jesse smiled slightly at the dry droplets he could see on the black boots. "Well, she was pretty understanding when I said who I was and invited me in and stuff. Then she launched into this bloody massive speech about what's going on and I realized things were not going as planned."

          "How did you expect them to work out," Jesse said lightly. "That once you go you take away all the bad points with you? They still lingered after you went."

          Duke sighed and then looked across the lake himself to the other side. "Well, I can't help you too much. I know that things have been turning crap and I've made a mess of everything. I don't regret meeting you, though. I know one way that you can win your friends back."

          Jesse smiled sadly for a wish that seemed far into the distance. "You can't win back friends in the way you are thinking."

          Duke raised his eyebrows. "Well, I'm going to tell you a small story then that may change your mind. You see, I don't think that your friends ever hated you. Not deep down anyway. You've been friends for too long and even though I don't like your friends 'cause they don't like me, I know it's different to you. They're just outwardly mad because it's an initial reaction to what's happened. Let's face it, any cop would have got a medal of honor from the president if they caught me." Jesse laughed.

          "Is this your story?" he asked with his eyebrows raised in interest.

          Duke shook his head and smiled as well. "Nope. The story was that when I was 13, before I dropped out of high school, I had a best friend called Luke. We'd been best friends for most of our lives but his childhood was awful cause his mom had overdosed herself from depression when he was five and his dad was a drunk. Sometimes he would just come and stay at my hosue even though it wasn't any better, but he didn't want to be alone with his dad. One day, he came back to my house and was so badly beaten up he could barely walk. In the end, I had to take him to hospital 'cause he could barely breathe as his ribs were broken and he had a dislocated shoulder. His face was worse. "Well, I did a very stupid thing."

          He paused and Jesse looked at him. "What?"

          Duke sighed. "I was stupid and foolish and went ovet to his dad and I demanded that he go and do something about what he had done to Luke—apologised or something like that. I didn't even know what to expect. But his dad was so drunk the best I did was get him mad and I ran out. When Luke found out what I tried to do, he was mad at me and he didn't even talk to me when I was in the hospital sitting with him. I thought he really hated me. When I think back to this story I always think back to the problem that you're having at the moment."

          Jesse raised his eyebrows in confusion. "How can this possibly link in apart from the fact that both of best friends hated us." He looked at Duke, expecting an answer which Duke already had.

          "The thing is, Luke wasn't mad at me for what I did for his sake. He was mad at me for what I did because he was worried I was gonna get hurt. Luke knew how dangerous his dad was and he thought that I would get myself hurt. I think it's the same with your friends. They think that because it's me, that you may get yourself into deeper trouble with what you did and that's why they're mad."

          Jesse shook his head. "I know you're not that dangerous with me."

          Duke shrugged. "Yeah, but they don't know that, the same way that I didn't think that Luke's dad would be that dangerous either." From the pocket of his jacket, he brought out several papers and envelopes, held together by a single thick elastic band. "I can't stay too long in case someone recognises me. My face is all over the tv screens and newspapers. But I thought that considering that I may as wel get rid of your troubles by giving you this. And once people are looking after the real murderer then they'd forget about me and I coud jump over and away easily."

          Jesse took the wad of papers from Duke's outstretched hand. "What is it?"

          Duke smiled. "What you've been waiting for, for a very long time. Don't open it here because I'm not answering any questions from you. It's up to you to work it all out with you friends why, how and when. All I know is that I was hired by someone to kill them. Then I said I wouldn't, they took matters into their own hands, that's why Graves was poisoned by who hired me and I shot him because I decided to return and do the job in the end. I'm giving you the name and all the proof you need to convinct this person, all right." 

          Jesse looked down at the prize and then up at Duke. "Are you sure?"

          Duke grinned even more. "Rule one of the Hitman's Handbook—always be sure of what you're doing before you do it."

          Jesse looked at him suspiciosly. "The Hitman's Handbook?"

          "Hey, we can have a book. You doctors have got them."

          The young doctor looked at the papers again, seeing the only thing in quite a while that could brighten up his future. "Thanks, Duke."

          Duke shrugged. "It's all right. Like you said, I owed you something and this is the best that I can come up with." He looked at Jesse's beaming face and was happy that the doctor had finally calmed down. "Yeah, well, you're lucky kid. You got a great career, you got friends, you got a nice place to live and a really nice girlfriend who understands you. She was treating me like I was your best friend. She didn't seem scared at all." He put his hand on Jesse's shoulder. "I'll see you around, kid."

          Jesse spun round immediately. "Will you be coming back again?" 

          Duke, who was already walking away looked back at Jesse. "I dunno. I lead a different life, don't forget. This kind of career leads you all over the place depending how often I get a job. Let's say if I have some 'time off' or have to kill someone in California or LA again, I'll drop by and see you." Jesse couldn't think of anything else to say. Was there any way to thank a killer? Jesse simply noddded at  Duke and held out his hand. Duke took it and shook it. "No point in totally keeping to the promise. I don't think it's likely that you're ever gonna forget what's happened anyway."

          Jesse shook his head. "No. But it was the best thing in quite a while."

          With that, Duke turned round, gave a brief flash of a smile and with his head bent low so no one would recognize him, he walked out of the park. _Great kid, he thought to himself, __even though he isn't quite the murdering type cause he's a doctor, he's got spunk. For the first time in his life, Duke could say he was gonna miss someone and be sad to go. After saying that, a horrible imagine conjoured up in his mind when he was thirteen of coming to Luke's house one Saturday evening finding his father passed out on the floor and Luke as well. Luke's face was blood splattered and his injuries were far worse. His dad had killed Luke. That was when Duke dropped out of school and that was the last person he missed. _

*  *  *  *  *

          Norman was sitting in his office, wringing his hands over and over again. If he didn't any more, he would wear the joints in his wrists away. Trying to take his mind off things he did all his paper work, looked over his accounts and wandered round the hospital smiling to try and ease away the worries of the weeks. This is what he had been doing day in day out. Finally, as he passed one of the corridor, he stopped Pete Taylor in the corridor. "Um…Doctor Taylor, do you know where Mark Sloan is?" He looked at the young doctor expectantly as Pete was trying to rush with a whole bunch of files he could barely carry. 

          Pete looked around quickly. "Well—er—I was in surgery with him half an hour ago repairing a knife wound but after that I don't know. His shift hasn't fnished, he's somewhere around." Still holding on to the files, he ran down the corridor before his arms gave up. Norman frowned, stood up to his full short height and marched down the corridor with his arms swinging by his sides in determination. Finally, Norman made it to the doctor's lounge. There he found mark, Steve, and Amanda all seated down and talking quietly. "What do you think this is?" He shouted. "Is this the cops and docs committee? Mark, you have lives to save and you, " he said pointing at Steve, "have people to find." he said this in a way that hinted his frustration of not finding Duke Lotella. This had been annoying Norman for the past two weeks to the point that it had become depression. Mark was worrying that Norman in this state would actually commit suicide.

          "Calm down, Norman," said Steve. "We are doing the best we can. But the chances of us ever finding Lotella again are pretty slim. "

          Norman seemed to dance on the spot. If there had been no case at time then Amanda would have found it very funny, but it was pretty obvious that Norman was getting himself into a panic. "Is there _no way we can find him?" he demanded. He was answered by the shake of heads and silent murmurs of the three people. Throwing his hands up in exasperation he turned round and walked out the door again, muttering to himself about the closure of the hospital and his bankruptcy. Mark, Steve and Amanda looked at each other but didn't say a word._

          Finally, Mark stood up and looked down at both of them. "what else is there left to do?" he asked. "with Duke Lotella missing—or should I say escaped—there is nothing else to stick this case together. We have no chance of finding him now."

          "What do you suggest we do then?" Amanda asked.

          Steve shrugged and looked up at his dad. "Well, there is something we can do. Considering the lack of forensic evidence we have, our only hope is that Jim Ross can help us when it comes to sorting out this fire. I may as well go and ring him now and see if he comes up with anything."

          Mark looked at the clock above the door and was surprised at the time. Jesse should be starting his shift soon and so far he had not seen him round the hospital. Mark knew he should not be worried but with all the current events it was hard not to be. He knew that there was still a killer out there and from experience knew that it was dangerous especially when you were involved in the case. He also wanted the chance to explain to him the whole situation regarding what he thought was now a terrible mess.  "What time are you expected down at the station again," he asked his son.

          Steve looked at his watch. "Not for another hour or so."  

          From across the corridor, Jesse was sitting in Pete's office again. Pete had allowed him in temporarily partly because he was running around with files still. Jesse sat back in Pete's chair, put his feet up on the table and took the elastic off from the envlopes. One by one, he carefully looked through, his anticipation, curiosity making his eyes move faster than he could read and he moved from one to the other. Shock hit him as he leafed through the papers, not beliveing whose name came up on it.        He shook his head. There was no doubt, though, these were the papers and they were clearly signed, both the killer's and Duke's. Duke wouldn't pull a stunt and forge them. The date was still on the top.

          Jesse smiled and sat back in his seat, pocketing the envelopes and other papers. He had the killer.


	18. Part 3--Chapter 4

THE SHAFT

Part 3 — Chapter 4

          Shifts finally finished for the day. Mark and Jesse finished at the same time and Amanda finished half an hour earlier. Steve, returned to the station but found nothing of interest there, returned to the hospital. He didn't a few background checks on some of the other less known people at the party that night but couldn't find anything else of interest. Every was either totally clean, had a motive and no opportunity, or opportunity and no motive or had been totally cleared. Steve almost slammed down his files and prepared to shout through the office. But in his mind he was screaming, "Damnit, Damnit, Damnit!" But it didn't help him relieve it any more. He felt like shouting at Jesse not out of spite but to blame someone apart from himself.

          So eventually, with a bunch of papers, he returned to the hospital and sat in an empty doctors lounge with Mark and Amanda, pouring over the endless notes that he'd made and print out sheets of paper. None of them had a criminal record anywhere in the world. It was a database full of clean doctors and Med. Students from all over America and Germany. Amanda ran a hand over her forehead and shook her head as she went through it. "No one had any reason to hate Carl Graves that badly to kill him."

          Steve sighed and leaned back. "Maybe Jeanie Morgstone did kill him. We know she was having an affair with him. How hard would it be, for him as a doctor, to get some of his supplies when she found out."

          "And the liquid potassium?" Mark asked.

          Steve gave an exasperated sigh. "Everywhere we go there's a dead end. How much further can we go? We've been through everyone and with everyone something's missing. I wish we could just finish this. I'm getting tired on it." He looked over at Amanda's face. "Did you do another autopsy on Carl Graves?"

          Amanda nodded. "Yes, and there's nothing new in his body. The same old traces of Cyanide and a bullet in the back from Duke Lotella's gun. There's nothing at all we can use to pin it to everyone." She looked around the empty Doctor's lounge. There was only one Med. Student there watching the worldly news on television and totally engrossed in it so he couldn't hear what the other three were talking about. Considering people who had finished their shifts had gone home and those on the night ones were already working, it wasn't likely that anyone else would come in—maybe Norman to see if Duke Lotella had still been caught or not. Norman just couldn't take a hint and realize that Duke was never going to be caught again.

          The door opened and Jesse stepped in. Nobody moved though. From the corner of his eye, Mark could sense Jesse hesitate and wondering whether he should go into the room. But finally, Jesse bravely took a step in, shut the door behind him. He wandered over to the coffee table and decided to get that coffee that he had put aside earlier. He looked once at the ground huddled over the table and then made his way to the counter in need of some refreshment.

          With lowered heads their eyes followed to the refreshment table. Not a word was said between them but each were thinking the exact same thing. Steve turned his head back towards the papers that they were currently looking at and searched again for hidden clues that could enable them to catch the killer. Jesse pretended he had not noticed then sitting there which was confirmed by the way he deliberately looked away from them and did not acknowledge that they were even there. There was an uneasy silence with in the doctor's lounge. All that could be heard was the faint sound of the news that the med student was watching and when Jesse poured in the coffee and set his glass back down again. It was strange to think that after all this time for friends could not even speak to each other any more over a simple rift.   

          "I give up," Steve finally said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "We may as well just pack it all up and tell the captain that it is impossible. I do not see how we can carry on with this any more."

          Mark, who always hated to give up on a case when they were so close to the end, refused to give in to his sons' idea. "There has to be something here we can use," he insisted. "After all the murder was committed and he certainly did not do it by himself. Somehow this killer managed to do it and I for one are not going to let him get away with it. Since when have you been so eager Steve to finish something like this." 

          Steve looked up at his father and then that Jesse who was still pouring out his coffee. Even though he hated to admit it he knew his anger was rising again. "From the day I realized my best friend went against us," he said quietly but loud enough for everyone to hear.

          Jesse waited, wondering what he should do. It unlike his friend to make such an out burst and actually mean it. But finally with the stress of the whole week and the lack of sleep he had had he turned round on them, faced them with flashing eyes whilst at the same time putting his hand into his pocket and feeling the papers he had there. "Do you think I asked for this!" he shouted out loudly into the room. The Med. Student looked at them, realized this wqas not the best place to sit and decided to go somewhere else instead. "I didn't ask to be in a burning building, trapped in an elevator with a hitman, make friends with him and then lose my friends." He put a hand to his forehead, feeling a headache building up. "I thought I was doing something right at the time. I know you don't share my views but I just wished you could have understood me."

          Amanda stood up. "Understood? Jesse, we tried. We just couldn't see the points that you had."

          Jesse sighed and nodded. "I know, I know. That's why I gave up in the end. I didn't want all this to happen, I'm sorry." He took the packet of papers out in his hand and dumped them on the table in front of him. "Duke came to see me earlier today. He gave me this and said that we could have the name of the murderer. Dr Garrison was the one who hired him to kill Carl Graves. Duke wasn't going to do it though so Garrison took matters into his own hands and poisoned him. But it just so happened that Duke's other client didn't need him so Duke came back to do Carl Graves. Carl was already dying when Duke got there."

          Jesse pointed towards the papers. "That's proof of the contract that they did including Garrison's signature. It's all in there." Steve took the papers and scanned through them briefly. Jesse lowered his head and sighed. "I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused." With that, he finished his coffee and walked out of the room in less than five seconds, shoulders sagging and heavy hearted. Mentally kicking himself because he thought he sounded stupid, he walked on down the corridor.

          Steve looked through all of the letters quickly, realizing that what Jesse was saying was true. They had some shred of proof. He didn't have time to say anything to Jesse as the young doctor walked out of the door. He couldn't believe he had the killer in his hand and in the midst of excitement forgot the other issue at hand. Amanda, though, looked through the sheets before Steve had finished. Without a work, she jumped up from her chair wordlessly and ran out of the doctor's lounge to Jesse, who she spotted down the corridor.

          "Jesse!" she cried. In surprise, the doctor turned round to see her running towards him. He waited patiently. "Thought you'd gone."

          Jesse spread his hands. "Gone where?" He smiled.

          Amanda relaxed when she finally noticed Jesse smiling again. "Good question. Listen, Jesse, I wanted to say…I'm sorry. We were all out of line, going on at you like that. We didn't really understand. But that's speaking generally. I want to say sorry for what I'd done too. When I realized what you'd done…I don't think it was totally fair of me to do without listening to you."

          Jesse shook his head, silencing her. "Don't worry," he said. "We all had different views of what was right and what was wrong. I just didn't think before I did some things. You thought what you were doing was right. I thought it was as well." He laughed suddenly and turned round on the spot. "This is so weird. We've been friends for how long and here we are, apologizing like it was a first time or something."

          Amanda couldn't help laughing. "Strange, huh. Oh well, I'm just glad we got that sorted and now it's about time we put things back to normal. Are you ready to come back and tell us what you know about this case? Or at least help us with it."

          Jesse grinned. "I thought you'd never ask!" Feeling much better about themselves, both returned to the doctor's lounge where Steve and Mark were still pouring over the notes. They were surprised when Jesse and Amanda walked in and Jesse sat down with them. Looking up expectantly, he raised his eyebrows and asked, "so, where were we?"

          Steve looked slightly taken back but both he and his father shared unsupressed glee. "Well," Mark said, leaning forward, "you were about to tell us what you know about this murder."

*  *  *  *  *

          Jesse leaned over the counter and wiped it again as Steve passed another two drinks to his dad and Amanda. It was another dying night in Barbecue Bob's. Most of the customers were leaving which left mainly the four friends in the restaurant clearing up a few lose ends.

          Mark took a sip of his drink and set it back down. "Elgar Dr Garrison hired Duke Lotella to kill Carl Graves." He shook his head. "You know, I almost cannot believe it. He's such a well respected and highly regarded surgeon. It would seem a waste to throw all that away. He opened up[ several schools as well in Germany. What could drive him to do it?"

          Amanda nodded. "He doesn't seem like the murdering type. And besides, if we were wrong about all of this, it would produce a massive scandal." She looked over at Jesse. "Not that I'm sayng he's deliberately doing this."

          "Where is Duke now anyway?" Steve asked Jesse as he leaned against the counter, chin in hand looking at his friend.

          Jesse shrugged. "I think he was lying low for a while until he decided to make a quick get away without anyone noticing. But he's not lying with this. Thr guy can barely write his own name let alone forge someone else's signature. As much as I hate to say it, one of my best loved doctor idols could be capable of murder." He shook his head. "It's a shame, isn't it—if it is true. That if he was to do it, what would happen to all those students he was teaching."

          "What would happen to Jamie?" Amanda asked. A heavy silence fell upon the almost deserted restaurant.

          Mark broke the silence. "Well, we know that Dr Garrison did it. There is a sufficient amount of proof here to say that he did it. But what we need to know is how and why."

          They thought for a few seconds. "Well, let's think about how he could have done it. Machu Lie has an argument with Carl Graves minutes before he dies. Now, from my little interrogation with Jamie Condrack, I remember him saying that Dr Garrison, who could easily have spiked it with Cyanide, gave him the drink if he intentionally came to do. He heard that Duke Lotella wasn't coming after all so decides to plan it himself. He spikes the drink and then hands it to Jamie. Jamie then 'gave it to someone' he said, who must have been Machu Lie."

          "Which ties in with the _"here's your drink," you heard from Machu."_

          Steve nodded at his father. "Dr Garrison knows this is a strange plan. He needs a distraction as well. So then Duke Lotella appears on the scene, much to the shock of Garrison, sees Carl having reactions from the drug but shoots him anyway and runs away, which is where I run after him. And at around that time, Jamie had left the room. When the incident in the car park had finished and the elevator started rising, Jamie hit the switch, forcing the elevator to stop and just seconds afterwards, the liquid potassium caught fire."

          Amanda thought the events out slowly. "Yes, it could definitely work. But when did Dr Garrison put the liquid potassium around the room."

          Steve walked over the telephone beside the counter. "That's something I'm going to get from a friend." He picked it up and dialled a number he had memorised after ringing so much this past week. It took a while but after a few rings, someone finally picked up the phone.

          "Ross 'ere."

          "Jim, good, I'm glad you're at your station," Steve said thankfully.

          "Hey, Steve, nice to hear from you. What's up?"

          "I need to ask a favor," Steve said and Jim gave a small hum down the phone again. "Well, we were wondering whether you had any reports back on that fire. You see, we think we know—actually—we're pretty sure who started it. Did you find liquid potassium all over the room or in one particular place."

          "Funny you should ask that," Jim replied, "I only found that out this morning. One of my men discovered it just yesterday and I got the results back. The potassium was right at the back of the hall opposite the stage but fairly near the back where it started. Near a table 22."

          "And did you happen to find out who was sitting at table 22?"

          Jim chuckled down the phone. "You know, I cuold see myself as a detective too. I took the liberty of finding out that person's name to you. It was for a group of people from the German Surgical Institution. Err…Chris O'kell, Elizabeth Paget, Sammy Farrell, David Tester, Joshua Banks, Elgar Garrison and Ruchita Davda."

          "Thanks, Jim, you just confirmed my suspicions."

          "No problem," Jim answered and hung up the phone.

          Steve put the phone down and returned to his friends. "Well, Dr Garrison was on that table 22 where most of the liquid potassium was found. He could have put it there any time during the party. Then, it could have reacted with any water, water from the air or alcohol that was around the place. No one would have noticed. It was his easy way of destroying the evidence and it almost worked."

          The door suddenly opened and someone new came in deswpite the fact the sign said 'we're closed.' This was an exception, though. "Jesse Travis," someone said and the doctor turned round. "I call this quarter to ten at night. You were meant to be back home five hours ago."

          Jesse looked up at the clock and then down at his girlfriend, cringing. The other three smiled slightly cheekily. "Oh, really? Oh…man…I didn't forget. I just—err—got a little tied up with things. Then I had to come down to Bob's which was a spur of the momeng idea and…" He looked at his three friends which were laughing at his hopeless attempt and fell into laughs himself.

          Haley raised her eyebrows in surprise when she noticed that Jesse was laughing and back to normal again and getting along with his friends once more. She decided to let go of her mild annoyance. Sighing, she walked up to the group, put her handbag on the counter and sat down opposite Jesse next to Amanda. "Oh well, I'll let you off _this time." Jesse smiled and carried on. He reached over and kissed her. Briefly, the four of them explained to Haley the current situation of what was going on and who they thought the killer was. Haley listened with keen interest as she always did with the cases and would marvel at Mark's way of deducting._

          Jesse sighed. "Where does that put us? Dr Garrison has the perfect opportunity not to mention we have a substantial amount of proof with what Duke gave us. But _why would an upstanding and respected doctor of America and Germany want to kill another very famous and highly regarded doctor? There are similarities between the both of them, sure, but how does it tie in to kill him?"_

          Mark smiled slightly. "I think the answer lies in Germany," he said and smiled slightly. The others all turned to look at him.

          Not long afterwards, Steve and Jesse were preparing to close upa nd leave again. All the cooks and chefs had gone, leaving a perfectly clean and washed up kitchen for the next day and just about enough food to start them off tomorrow. They left the two partners to the wiping down of tables and putting up of chairs in the dining area. As Jesse finally lifted the last of chairs, he glanced at his watch and noticed the time. "Man, if Haley stays in the car any longer she'll drag me out with my hands tied."

          Steve smiled. "You're lucky to have her even if she does drag you out."

          Jesse had a faraway look in his eyes as he set the last chair down. "Yeah, I know. I don't know what I'd do without her. She understands everything. She's good at comforting and doesn't mind when I have long shifts, as long as they're not too often." He winked at Steve as he turned round. "And she's good in bed which she proved last night."

          Steve laughed as Jesse wandered behind the counter again. He pushed back his hair and leaned with his back against the counter not looking at his friend. "Hey—err—Jesse," he started to say. "I just wanna say that…"

          "If you say you're sorry I'll run into the kitchen and get a bread knife."

          Steve looked at him but did not return his playful grin. "No, Jesse, I mean it. I am sorry. I can't believe that only four days ago I was in here, screaming my head off at you and shouting. I didn't once consider what you were going through or how my actions would make you feel. All I thought of was the stupid case. If I was a proper friend I wouldn't have just ratted out on you like that. I am sorry. Can you forgive me."

          Jesse smiled, touched by his friend's concern. "Steve, I forgave you lot the moment I came back and sat down with you again. I never really blamed you. Hurt, yes, but I knew why you were doing it. I admit that after I listening to all the argument, I kinda realized how stupid my decision was. I should have thought about what I was doing before just launching into it."

          Steve looked at his earnest face and had to laugh for a moment. Then he turned serious again. "I suppose we got the real murderer. A guy like Duke has to make living even if it is a killing. I suppose I could let you off, Dr Travis for aiding and offending the criminal law and justice—just for your sake."

          Jesse patted his friend on the back. "Thanks, Steve." 

          "No, problem."

          The door suddenly burst in. Jesse cringed as he forgot that Haley was still outside waiting for him. But instead of being mad, she actually looked kind of worried. "Jesse, Steve, something's happened," she said breathless. She pushed the hair out of her face and her green eyes were wide and fearful. Jesse rounded the counter over to her. "I was just walking around the restaurant. I was around the back and not in the car park and I just came back now. There's paint all over both our cars." Steve and Jesse ran out with her and into the car park. It was only their two cars left and Haley's but that one had remained untouched. Jesse's convertible and Steve's car had been vandalized.

          Steve looked at his car. The blue car was now splattered red. A small smell revealed that it was paint and not blood. On the side was a threatening message reading _death to you, and on the windshield was a typed not reading practically the same thing but this one was more personal. It had Steve's name on it. Jesse had the exact same on his car and on the typed note but this one reading his name on it. Jesse and Steve shared a look of worry._

          Haley shook her head. "I don't like this now," she said. "It's getting too dangerous for all of us. Garrison has already done this once. He won't be afraid of killing someone else." She turned back towards Jesse and whispered in his ear, "you promised me nothing will happen to you. I want you to keep to it. Just get this over and done with before he hurts one of us."

          Steve sighed and looked around the parking lot. There was no one in sight but on the highway. "Garrison must know we are on to him and he doesn't like it. We'll have to be careful."

          Jesse put his arms around Haley and kissed her on the forehead. "Don't worry," he whispered back to her. "I'll make sure nothing happens to anyone, to me, or to you." Haley nodded but from previous experiences, she knew that was a hard promise to keep.


	19. Part 3--Chapter 5

THE SHAFT

Part 3 — Chapter 5

          Mark walked into Community General Hospital the next morning feeling better than he had in quite a long time. No more did depression or heavy heartedness fall on him. He was felt light and happy, almost without a care in the world and could carry on with his usual work without worrying at all. The only thing that did slightly bug him despite his pager constantly beeping even though he wasn't being called, was this business with Dr Garrison. There was no doubt about it—Garrison was their man. He had murdered Carl Graves and was able to by all means but the reason for that was still unknown. Mark decided to take up on his idea from the night before and retired to his office.

          Steve had come back home the night before. Mark had still been up, looking up the results of a football game he had missed when his son came home and announced the threats on the cars by Garrison. This got Mark more worried about the situation. "Hey, you couldn't be as worried as Haley was. She's in a terrible state about this whole affair. She's worried about all our safety. Jesse managed to get her back home, I think. I'll ring and check." After confirming that Jesse and Haley made it back home safely, he said goodnight to his father and retired to bed.

          Now Mark sat in his office and from his desk, produced the sheets that he had taken from Steve. They were ones he had printed off about all the main people at the party. He picked out Dr Elgar Garrison's from them and read through it carefully.

_          Dr Elgar Garrison profound doctor of surgical medicine. He was born in Munich, Germany on 2nd August 1939. After the end of the Second World War, he was lucky enough to only be around seven years old therefore a lot of his education had not been missed. What influenced him to become a doctor was the sights of the war in Europe and the lack of medical knowledge there was with helping people and therefore resulting in a lot of death. Garrison attended Munich University and graduated with a doctor's degree in medicine. From then on, he practiced at a hospital in Berlin._

_          After inheriting a small fortune from his father, he tried to set up a hospital in Germany. The first time, though, he failed. So far, the reasons have been unsure but the only conclusion that was given out was that a competitor had stolen his idea for the first Surgical Hospital School. Several years later though, he set up another institution for training students sucessfullly and today has been reconciled as one of the best alongside the person who had supposedly apposed him. Today he is thought of as one of the best…_

          The biography went on and on about his credits and so forth. Mark eventually lost interest, finding that there was nothing else of interest in the print out and sat back in his chair in thought again.

          "He practices surgical medicine and trains students and opens practices. What is harsh about that? Where could Carl Graves and Elgar Garrison met to create so much hate to kill? They both live in Germany and probably did meet each other. But if the hatred wasn't public then how…!" Mark sighed and picked up the paper again, not expecting much. But as his eyes glossed over with printed microcopic black words, something, as usual, began to stand out. He put the paper down and read it more carefully. Then he searched for other traces of evidence.

          …_a competitor had stolen his idea for the first Surgical Hospital School_

_          …best alongside the person who had supposedly opposed him._

          Mark frowned. "I wonder," he murmured to himself. Turning himself to the computer in his office and his newfound love of the Internet, he clicked after a few searches found what he was looking for. With a smile on his face, he turned towards the phone and after a few rings, a familiar voice picked up the phone. "Steve?" he said to his son. "You know, I think I may have found out something. I did a little bit of research not long ago and some very interesting facts came up."

          "What were you researching on?" Steve asked cautiously.

          Mark's face dropped, "Steve, you comment on my use of the Internet one more time, I'll throttle you. I _did go on the Internet and I found something interesting about Dr Garrison. The first surgical training hospital was going to be in Berlin. But…someone got there before him and stole his idea. This happened to be Carl Grave's own surgical school."_

          Steve let out an amazed gasp. "You're saying that the hospital Carl Graves is so famous for in Berlin is the one that Garrison was going to set up?"

          "Exactly. Now that's a big blow. Being the first one, it would have been worth a fortune. In fact, it's where Carl Graves got most of his wealth from. He earned around $45 million dollars from shares and the whole package that comes with it. He grew to be very wealthy—which is where Garrison could have been if he got it set up first."

          "Perfect opportunity to get mad." Steve hummed down the phone. "What else does it say?"

          "Well, Garrison set up his other hospital further out and even though it was not as successful, he still made quite a bomb out of it. Garrison must have _hated Carl Graves for stealing him out of a financial and medical situation, which could have made him richer than he was now. Considering that Dr Garrison actually has more medical knowledge than Graves, that must have infuriated him more."_

          Steve sighed down the phone. "Long standing grudge, don't you think?"

          "Yes, so is Jamie Condrack's."

          Steve thought this over. "I get your point. I suppose long standing grudges do happen and when the opportunity comes, you grab it. Graves must have invited Garrison to his party and he took his chance there; hired Duke Lotella and well…we know the rest." 

          Mark nodded to himself. "That sounds about right. So, we've got everything we need. Are you going to pick up Garrison?" he asked, waiting for his son's answer. Inside, though, there was fear slowly surfacing and worry about the current situation.

          Killers were reckless no matter how old or what sex. Garrison had proved it. The threats last night had certainly meant. Garrison didn't mind how many lives he hurt in the fire or that he had killed Graves. Even when he thougth Duke wouldn't show up, that didn't put him off doing the deed. With him, was it safe for his son to go in alone? The again, would it be safe for anyone. Who knew if Garrison was armed? All the time, it gave Mark and sinking feeling that one of the most wonderful doctors could turn like this.

          "Well," Steve said. "We have a slight problem there. That may be slightly impossible. Last night, I had the receptionist and staff at the hotel watching Garrison. This morning, he's disappeared without a trace. No one saw him leave. Apparently, his stuff is still there but he's gone. He must have left right after he vandalized our cars."

          Mark sighed. "Is that a good thing or bad thing?"

          "I don't know. We want him caught but do you think he'd really hurt anyone else? His primary killing was Carl Graves."

          "He'd do anything to get away with it, I think," Mark said. "I know you're careful but he could go after anyone. There's not a chance he could get to Duke but he could go to Jesse. He may think Jesse is a threat. I mean, Jesse's friendship with Duke is no secret. He may think Jesse knows too much."

          "True," Steve said. "I've got APB's and everything out on him."

          "Ok. Will you be coming down to the hospital later?"

          "Maybe. I probably will, though."

          "All right then. See you soon." Mark hung up the phone and sat back in his office, sighing with something he didn't know. Was it frustration? Was it relief? Was it annoyance? Was it worry? Was it all of them mixed together making his feelings run in turmoil? Either way, Mark didn't feel right about anything. Garrison had managed to get away. Police were on the lookout for him so he shouldn't really skip through LA too easily. He certainly wouldn't be able to get another flight back to Germany and get through airport security.

          The door suddenly burst open and Jesse came in, flopping himself down in front of the desk. "Hi, Mark," he said happpily.

          Amanda walked in behind, more calmdly and closed the door. She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking before entering."

          "Only in front of the school principal."

          Mark couldn't help smiling. Finally, within the space of a day, Jesse had been transformed. No longer was he quiet and contrite. He was energetic, talking again, making jokes and probably full of relief with being with his friends normally again. Mark couldn't be happier. The past week had met with a whole load of disasters, this being one of them. He was only too glad to be putting that behind him. Watching his two colleagues mildly arguring, a thought struck through his mind. "Jesse," he inquired, "You wouldn't be too keen on seeing Jamie Condrack again, would you."

          Jesse smiled tightly. "Not if I can help it."

          Mark sat back. "Ah, I thought not. Amanda, do you think you could go down to the hotel down in Malibu? I would, but I'm so tied up here and Steve will be coming down soon."

          "Sure, I finish my shift in about half an hour. What do you want me to do?"

          "I want you to see Jamie Condrack. Garrison has managed to elude us somehow. I want to know if he's seen Garrison or even found out where he's gone. Don't make it too obvious that we're looking for him. For all we know, he's part of it as well."

          Amanda nodded. "Sure," she said.

          She turned to walk out the door. "Tell him I said, hi," Jesse called out sarcastically to her. Rolling her eyes, Amanda shut the door behind her. Mark looked over at Jesse with raised eyebrows. Jesse noticed the older doctor looking at him and stared back at him. "What?" he asked.

          "Are you ever going to resolve this problem with Jamie?"

          "Yeah, when we're on a street engaged in a blood battle which will result in both of us dying."

          Mark shook his head. "Hate is such a waste."

*  *  *  *  *

          Amanda looked up at the hotel in Malibu where most of the Surgical School of Dr Garrison's were staying. It was a very pleasant place. Amanda was certain she would be able to see Mark's house from here. She walked up to reception and found out the room of Jamie Condrack. He shared the room with Garrison. Amanda wondered if Jamie was actually a good student. Garrison seemed to pride in him the most and talk about him a lot. Walking up the flights of stairs, she eventually made her way to room 203 and knocked.

          A few moments later, the door opened revealing Jamie Condrack in the doorway. He had obviously just showered justding by the smell in the room and his damp blond hair was tousled and unruly. He was drying it with the towel in the hands. His eyes narrowed when he noticed Amanda. "Oh great, come to tell me that you have proof I killed Graves or have you come again to talk about Travis."

          "No actually," Amanda said calmly, "I want to ask you whether you knew where Doctor Garrison was?"

          Jamie looked at her quizzically and then realization sunk in. He moved back to allow Amanda into the apartment. "Sorry, the place is a bit of a mess," he informed her. "I was packing and we were meant to be leaving today so everyone's stuff is strewn out here. Our flight was at 10 am but Dr Garrison hasn't been home. In fact, I don't think he returned since last night."

          "Did he not return to the apartment last night?"

          Jamie shook his head. "Nope. I should know. I'm a very light sleeper. I can tell when someone comes in or not. Dr Garrison didn't return last night because his bed wasn't slept in either." Jamie was clearly frustrated by the way he was pacing but it didn't show in his voice of face. Amanda wondered how long it took Jamie to become a totally hard character. He seemed emotionless, expressionless, void of any happy life in him at all. His only happiness seemed to be his own satisfaction at getting things done. Sometimes that was his satisfaction against Jesse but most of the time that was anger.

          "Hmm, strange don't you think?" Amanda aske,d waiting for a reaction from the doctor.

          "Very," Jamie said, looking at his watch as he continued to pack the rest of his clothing. "He's never late. If there's one thing about him, it's punctuality. And he's never gone somewhere without telling me anyway. Usually a note. Dr Garrison isn't very good with mobile phones of e-mails."

          Amanda laughed. "Neither is Dr Sloan. He's just mastered the mobile phone." She paused as Jamie continued packing. "So you have no idea where he is?"

          Jamie shrugged, a perplexed expression on his face. "No, not the faintest idea. I mean, this was his first time in LA. We've spent two weeks here as it is and have had plenty of time to look over the amazing sights. What more is there left to see?" He sighed again. "I've had to cancel flights and delay everything. I don't even know when to book another flight because I don't know where he is and can't contact him."

          Amanda nodded slightly, trying to remember it all in her head. Jamie's answers seemed genuine. He was completely puzzled by his mentor's disappearance. "Has he been acting strangely at all in the past few days? I mean, has there been anything unusual behavior?"

          Jamie rolled his eyes. "Suddenly the ME's a detective. I thought that was Lieutenant Sloan's job. Oh, sorry, I forgot, it seems to run throughout the family and circle of friends." The sarcasm was evident in his voice as he pushed all the clothes into his suitcase vigorously without folding them like he had done at the beginning. "Tell me, does Travis work in some of these cases as well? Or do you find him too _incompetent to do it?"_

          Jamie's growing anger was worrying Amanda. He was flinging things into the suitcase, the very sound of Jesse's name throwing him into anger. Finally, though, he sat down on the bed and ran his hands through his white blond damp hair. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just annoyed at everything today. It's not like me to lose my temper even if it is over Travis—and I don't care if you tell him that." Jamie stood up. "Garrison hadn't been acting that weirdly. He's always been someone to give good advice and spiritual condolence but he was just doing it more often lately. Must be the sea air or something. Other than that, he was a generally quiet man."

          Amanda nodded. "How well do Carl Graves and Dr Garrison know each other?"

          Jamie gave a bitter laugh. "They go _way back but whether that's a good thing, I don't know. Dr Garrison doesn't talk about him very much. Says what's done in the past is done. Sometimes it can be put right, sometimes it cannot."_

          _No kidding, Amanda thought to herself. __He definitely put it right. Amanda held out her hand and in it was a card for Community General Hospital. "Even though I'm sure you know where it is, if you see or know of Dr Garrison's whereabouts then can you call us or Steve Sloan from the LAPD?"_

          Jamie's eyebrows in surprise. "You think Dr Garrison killed Carl Graves? No, it's impossible. He wouldn't do something like that. I've been with him for a long time. He's a dedicated doctor. I mean, he wouldn't hurt anyone. He's someone to save, not to kill."

          _Aren't all Doctors, Amanda though regretfully._

          "To be honest with you, Jamie," Amanda lied, "the LAPD have no idea who committed this crime. They're totally stumped. After Machu Lie was let out the police have no one else to go to. There seem to be no other suspects or clues so we're doing it the long way round by going through everyone that was there and interrogating. Just call us, would you?"

          Jamie thought to himself. "All right. Just make sure it's you who picks up the phone. I don't want to talk to Travis or any of the Sloan's."

          Amanda held up her hand. "You have my word."

          Jamie sighed, feeling better and sat back down on the bed, rubbing his hands together. Amanda waited patiently. She sensed that there was something else bothering the young doctor and even though she had once though that Jamie was a conceited and selfish person, she had grown towards the young doctor. Maybe what he had done wrong in the past had become obvious to him. But Amanda knew she had gained the man's trust. Maybe he would say something. "Does…" he started to say and then stopped, planning his words again. "What does Travis say about me?"

          Amanda was taken back at the question. "Well—err—almost exactly the same you say about him."

          Jamie rolled his eyes. "Figures."

          Amanda sighed and sat down beside him. "Friendship is not an easy thing, is it? Regaining friendship is hard. Regaining a friendship that has been lost over such a long period of time and hatred is even harder."

          "I would have hardly said Travis and I were friends in the first place."

          "That's besides the point," Amanda informed him. "No matter how far the knowledge of each other goes, you were still acquainted. Back then, you were both young, ignorant, stupid and you both did things you regret. But now you are older and you should be wiser."

          Jamie laughed bitterly and shook his head. "You know, I hated Travis so much. There is no word for how angry I felt. I may not show it on the outside. Everything about me always looked cool though, so I didn't show I felt. But seeing Travis here in LA at that convention sparked off a whole lot of memories. I didn't realize how angry I was until I met him. Then people started talking to me—people like you, Lieutenant Sloan and even Dr Garrison. I'm beginning to have my doubts. Is that a sign of weakness?"

          _It's a sign you have some emotion, Amanda though. "Not at all," she answered. "In fact, thinking that has made you look at different perspectives. You should never grow such a hatred that it controls your life."_

          Jamie looked up at her. "That's exactly what Dr Garrison said."

          "Did he?" Amanda asked as she went over to the door. Jamie nodded. "Well, take his advice." With that, she left. _If Garrison ever said anything right in his lifetime, that would have had to have been it._


	20. Part 3--Chapter 6

THE SHAFT

Part 3 — Chapter 6

          Three days went by with no word on Garrison. Airports, bus stations and police had not spotted him anywhere leaving the state or the country. Time seemed to forget him and therefore for a while, he was erased from the minds of many including those working on his case. Life returned to how it always was—a bit of investigating and doctoring with the thoughts of Garrison never leaving their minds. Jamie and the surgical school group still had to stay behind. The disappearance of their mentor had worried them.

          Steve Sloan sat down in front of the TV with a bag of chips, watching the game going on. He passed them over to Jesse, who was sitting beside him. Jesse pointed at the TV. "See that!" he cried, with his mouth half full. "That was a classic move in the history of basketball. And you just missed it." He shook his head, his eyes transfixed on the television. "From my experience in basketball that was a brilliant move!"

          Steve sighed and shook his head. "You experience in basketball was injuring yourself and getting yourself caught up in court cases."

          "Yes, but it wasn't my fault," Jesse pointed out, still staring at the screen. 

          They carried on watching the game, cheering at the skills and scores and then watching in frustration as goals were added to the other team. They brooded over every injury and shouted at every foul or false moves. From the kitchen, Mark and Amanda heard both of them yell out to the umpire on TV. Amanda grinned over at Mark. "Maybe we should have left Jesse behind after all."

          "Oh, what a cruel mind you have, Amanda," Mark Sloan said, feigning shock. Then he chucked. "No, they're fine in there, back to how they should be. I don't think I could have managed with such a rift in between our friendship. Now they're acting as though nothing ever happened."

          Amanda laughed. "Strange how these things happen." She tried some of the food herself but Mark could notice anything. Once again, an enraged cry came from the living room as the two friends disagreed with something again. Finally, she took the food into the other room and placed it in front of them. "Enjoy that while it lasts," she said.

          The two men barely acknowledged her but reached over for the food. Amanda rolled her eyes but sat at the end of the sofa with Mark in the recliner watching the game on TV. She stole a glance at Mark as they turned to look at the two men, watching the TV engrossed. The game stopped half way through and the announcements went on. Only then did they realize that Amanda and Mark were in the room. Steve stretched. "What time is it?" he asked and yawned.

          Mark looked at his watch. "Past seven o'clock. It's a good thing none of us have too early-a-shift tomorrow?" Amanda and Jesse nodded in agreement. In previous experiences, both had stayed up late and found they could not get up the next morning.

          As Steve turned his eyes on the television again, everything blacked out. The television turned off and suddenly all the lights in the house shut off leaving them in blackness. Mark dropped the bag of chips from his hand in fright, spilling them in fright. Jesse gasped in shock and looked around him, his eyes unable to focus on anything. Outside it was pitch black anyway so it was impossible to see. Steve made his way to the TV carefully and switched it on a few times with nothing happening. He tried the lights on as well and nothing happened. "Power shortage?" Amanda suggested.

          A sudden crash of glass sounded from the other end of the house. "I don't think so," Steve suddenly said. His hand automatically went into his holster and he pulled his gun out. "Listen, don't stay down here. It came from the other end of the house. Go the stairs quietly and run up them and stay up there until I tell you to."

          "Don't you want us to help?" Mark whispered.

          "No, dad. Don't. Just go before he gets all four of us together." Complying, the three doctors got up and got their bearings. Unsure who was where, they got in an order where by touching, they could make it to the stairs. Some light was becoming obvious to them. When they finally got to the top they went into Mark's study, which had an oil lamp in it. Quickly, he turned it on. 

          He could make out Amanda. "We all here?" he asked.

          "Well, I am," Amanda assured. "Jesse?" No one answered for his name. Even the lamp did not reveal him. "Jesse?" Amanda looked back at Mark. Mark leaned his fists on the table and looked down.

          Jesse had in fact, never made it to the stairs. He knew Steve would never allow him to tag along. Steve was more cop when it came to these situations. He decided to risk something and see if he could work out was going on. Curiosity got the better of him in the end. He knew Steve would take the way through the living room so he decided to go through the kitchen and take the long way round. He did so, careful that Steve didn't notice him and hoped that Mark and Amanda wouldn't notice he was missing until it was too late…well, not too late.

          He walked through the kitchen, not noticing any broken glass or anyone walking around. Jesse stayed out of sight when Steve came through into vision past the front door. It was there that he noticed the glass had been broken. There was no brick on the floor, someone must have wrapped their hand round a cloth. The door was open. Steve was bent down on the ground, looking at the glass. Then he turned round and looked behind him. Not noticing anyone there, he stood back up and walked towards Jesse with his gun ready. The doctor hid behind the door as Steve passed before investigating himself. The last thing Jesse needed was to be shot dead by his best friend. After looking at the glass on the floor himself and careful not to read on it, he walked on down the corridor, away from Steve.

          _Dammit, Steve thought to himself. __Where is that son of a bitch. Garrison was doing a very good job of keeping himself concealed. If they knew he was in the house, why bother not showing himself. He must have come here to kill of threat surely. He was not doing a very good job of that by keeping within the darkness. A panic struck Steve as he thought that maybe Garrison was upstairs. _

          He could be with Amanda and Mark, hurting them? Steve decided to head upstairs and find out but before he could even take two steps, an arm went across his throat and the feeling of a gun pressed against his temple. "Shh," someone said. "If you shout now, he'll come so keep your fucking mouth shut." Steve did as he was told but he realized that the words weren't said with menance of in the leaat bit threatening. It was almost worried.

          With the arm placed harshly around his throat, he found words difficult to say at first. "Lotella," he managed to choke out.

          He felt a reaction behind him. The man tensed even more, making Steve need to gasp for breath. Duke let go slightly but not enough for Steve to do anything. "Don't even try anything. Believe it or not, this gun is loaded. I didn't come here to kill you or anyone."

          "Well, you're making a good impression," Steve retorted sarcastically.

          Duke ignored the comment. "I came to warn you. You must know I told Jess about Garrison. Garrison knows what's going on. He saw me and the kid talking and knew that I had given him up. He ain't gonna kill me. I'm too smart for that but he's going to kill each and every one of you." Steve could feel Duke's whispers in his ear. It was like a threat. "I could always leave him to do it. What is it to me if I just watch you drop dead from a few bullets. I'm sure you'd like the same thing to happen to me. But you're never going to catch me and you're never going to kill me."

          Steve could feel his temper rising. "What is your point, Lotella?"

          "My point _is," Duke said, tugging on Steve some more, "that if I did let you die, Jess would never forgive me. I'm doing it for his sake. I don't want to see him suffer after you just got friends with him. Just remember that I'm watching your back in a nice way. I followed Garrison here. He planned to kill you right now and then get out of the country. I cut the lights before he could go in so he couldn't find you easily but he's the one who smashed the glass. He's gone now, though. I managed to scare him off."_

          "Should I be grateful or not?"

          "You should. He would have killed you. He's armed as well. I can't watch your back forever, Sloan. Your life isn't my priority. Wrap this up and catch him quick. I have other jobs to do." With that, he pushed Steve to the ground and left him that. Like lightening, Duke ran towards the door and disappeared out of it. His silhouette could be seen getting smaller as it ran out of the gate and along the beach as far as he could go. He left behind and panting Steve, who was finally feeling able to breathe. He heard a sound like a knock and thinking it was Garrison returning, reached for his gun and pointed…

          …at a shocked and shy looking Jesse standing in the doorway. "Steve." He said it more as a word than a question. Steve lowered his gun. He knew from that one word that Jesse had heard everything. Standing up, he went over to his friend and put a hand on his shoulder affectionately.

*  *  *  *  *

          Mark put his feet up on his table in his office where there was space. He opened the paper and glanced through it.

          "Do you think Duke felt guilty about cutting our electricity supply?" Steve asked, peering over his dad's shoulder to see what the daily sports results were. His throat still felt weird after the night before. Finally, when Steve had assured everyone that it was all right, Mark and Amanda hurried down with the oil lamp, talking about Jesse. They were amazed and relieved to find him downstairs, safe with Steve. But Jesse seemed unnaturally quiet and sullen. Mark got the impression that his son knew why but didn't peruse it any further.

          Now, the next day, everything seemed back to the normal and the electricity guy was at their house, sorting out the cut wires. "I doubt it," Jesse said, who was sitting in front of Mark in a chair beside Amanda. "As long as he's not paying for it, he doesn't care at all." He smiled slightly at them and glanced at his watch. "My rounds start in half an hour."

          Amanda was about to say something when suddenly the intercom buzzed in. "Could Doctor Bentley please take a call from Line 2. Repeat: could Dr Bentley please take a call from Line 2." Mark offered his phone to her and she pressed 2, bringing the reciver to her ear. "Amanda Bentley speaking."

          There was a slight pause down the phone. "Is that definitely Dr Bentley."

          Amanda recognized the voice immediately. It was Jamie Condrack's. "Yes, it is, how can I help you, Jamie." At the mention of his name, the other three people looked up in interest. Amanda listened intently on every word Jamie had to say. It appeared that the younger man was slightly frustrated but nervous at the same time. "Okay, Jamie, do me a favor. Stay there all right, don't go inside just yet. And if he does come out, then follow him, would you?"

          Jamie sighed. "All right. I can't believe you're doing this to question him."

          "Oh, you'd be amazed," Amanda replied and hung off the phone. She looked at her three colleagues. "Garrison told Jamie to meet him in a shipping warehouse downtown. Apparently Jamie's there right now and he's spotted Garrison. There's no one else there at the moment so we'd better get a move on."

          Steve stood up first. "I'm going and I'm calling back-up."

          Mark then stood up after his son. "Don't think you're holding us back this time. We're all involved with this and I think it's only fair if we come. Besides, you can't call back-up. If they get there before we do, Garrison will know something is up and is bound to run away. We can'tr let him so let's just go down by ourselves."

          Steve looked at his father and they communicated in a way that neither Jesse nor Amanda could understand. Finally, Steve gave in. "All right, we're going. But just listen to what I say, especially you," he added, pointing at Jesse. Jesse simply nodded. "Okay, let's go but let's also hurry up. I don't want to be spending too long down there. I just want to wrap this up."

          "Agreed," Jesse and Amanda replied in unison and followed Steve out of the door. Hoping that Norman wouldn't notice them, they crept out towards Steve's car and drove down the shipping warehouse that Jamie had told Amanda about. Steve parked the car discreetly round the corner. From there, they could already see Jamie Condrack. He was leaning against the wall casually with his hands in the pockets of his sports jacket the wind not having any affect on his blond hair.

          Steve got out of the car with the others and walked up to him. "Is he still in there?" he asked Jamie.

          Jamie nodded. "Yeah," he replied, his hardened eyes piercing into Steve's. "He's still in there waiting for me. So either question him there and get it over and done with or arrest him. Either way hurry up because I want to go back to Germany. I can't stand the company." He gave Jesse a glance quickly and Mark put a hand on Jesse's arm as a warning. Thanking Jamie, Steve went towards the doors of the warehouse. "I suggest you hurry up, though," Jamie called after them. "A shipment of fish is due in fifteen minutes."

          Jamie stayed where he was as he watched the four of them enter the warehouse. Steve got prepared and held out his gun. The warehouse was massive and the top looked too far up. There was a skylight and packed from floor to ceiling were rows upon rows of shipments that had been stored ready to be exported again or sent into the country. Steve wondered how much of this stuff was legal but he didn't question it. That wasn't his priority. A movement caught his eye scuffling between the rows and the sound of a shoe scraping against sandy ground.

          "Garrison!" he shouted, taking a step forward. A shot sounded and Steve wasn't sure where the bullet came from. But a millisecond later, it lodged itself into the wall a few inches above Steve's head. Instinctually, he ducked along with the others. He saw Garrison shuffle to another row. He told the others to stay as he took a few steps forward. "Why do you even bother hiding? We know it's you. We have evidence it's you. No matter what state of country you go to, they'll know it's you. How do you plan to go on teaching?"

          Garrison didn't answer. Steve, with motions of his hands, told the others to circle the area and keep tabs but _not do anything dangerous. Garrison was armed and that was obvious. "Garrison!" he shouted yet again, as he continued down the rows. "Garrison stop running. There are people waiting to catch you. The police are here already." He knew it was a bluff but did Garrison know?_

          As he finished his sentence, another bullet shot out of Garrison's gun. He saw the Doctor's face for just a second as he whipped out. He felt the bullet graze him, tearing a jagged line through his shirt and ripping the flesh of his shoulder. The pain was excruciating at first but he managed to live through without letting go of his gun. It was only a graze. The bullet had never passed through him. Steve saw Garrison running down the isle. He was trying to make it into the clearing so he could go out of the back door. As soon as the pain in his arm reduced to a dull throb, he carried on running after him.

          He also reached the end of the isle. Garrison was still running but slowing. He was in his old age, he couldn't last for long. "Steve watch out, he's going to—" he heard Amanda cry. Steve was about to lift up his gun but Garrison was faster. In a faster movement than he could follow, Garrison swirled round and pointed the gun at Amanda, who had shouted the morning.

          Steve skidded to a halt and looked at Amanda's petrified. He couldn't imagine what was going through her mind and he couldn't remember what was going on through is. Garrison would kill. He had the capability. He had come to kill them anyway. There was no reasoning.

          "Well," Garrison hoarsely, in his thick German accent. "An unlikely stand off. Instead of me coming to you, you came to me and I didn't even ask for it." He wasn't smiling with a malice, smiling from victory, smiling that he was about to get away with the perfect murder. He almost seemed upset. With earnestly in his face and tone, he said, "I didn't want to kill you. I didn't want to kill four very talented people with their lives ahead of them. But it's necessary, you see. I need to get away with it."

          "No, you don't," Steve insisted. "No criminal needs to get away with a crime. You killed Carl Graves for vengeance. Then you set a fire, which could have killed dozens of people. You hire a hitman. Then you try and kill us. No one deserves to get away for that."

          Garrison looked as though he was about to break down. The gun in his hand was quivering and Steve knew it was dangerous. Steve realized that the man didn't want to kill. But he had to. It was a difference. "If only Lotella had kept his mouth shut," Garrison warned. "Where's that young doctor you know! He's the cause of all this. He befriended Duke and that's why he told. That…that _doctor has also warped the mind of my best student. Turned him into…I cannot even explain. At least he will die."_

          His last word echoed around the room. There was the sudden sound of a door crashing and when everyone turned round, an amazing sight bestowed them. There was no bright light of miracle. It was just a single person but his face was a picture that would stay in each of their minds forever. It was like someone had told him Santa Claus doesn't even exist. Jamie Condrack stood watching the scene going on. "Sir?" he asked Garrison. Nothing could have prepared him for it. His own mentor—a doctor—holding a gun at a woman, threatening to kill her. Admitting to kill others. Watching to kill someone else. And this was the man who had taught Jamie anything.

          It was the last thing he ever needed to see.


	21. Part 3--Chapter 7

THE SHAFT

Part 3 — Chapter 7

            An even more unlikely standoff, Mark thought to himself. He was standing in the shadows of the rows with Jesse by his side. Jamie's face was one of horror and disbelief. He looked as though he would break down right there and then. Time stopped for them all. Garrison looked at his own doctor that he trained in shock as well. Mark couldn't believe this was happening. This was the last thing Jamie needed to see. It was much easier hearing about it but he was getting a first hand taste. Mark's eyes casually drifted down to Jesse who was looking almost in pity. He had trained Jesse all through his internship years. How would Jesse feel if he was in Jamie's position. What would have happened if Mark had been there standing with a gun threatening to kill. Mark knew it was unimaginable. But then again, it probably was for Jamie as well until now.

            "What—what's going on?" Jamie asked uncertainly. He couldn't take his eyes of the gun in Garrison's hand.

            Garrison's world seemed to stop before him as well. He stared in shock. "Jamie. What are you doing here?" he demanded.

            "I—I heard shots."

            "This is all your fault!" Garrison shouted, his voice echoing all around the warehouse. "If it hadn't been for Duke Lotella and Dr Travis and all your meddling I could have got away with it easily. But I am still going to get away with it. I do not really want to kill you but it is necessary…I need to carry on with my reputation and education."

            "And—what about theirs?" Jamie asked quietly.

            "That is not my priority," Garrison hissed quietly as though he regretted it. He lowered his head and shook it. "I didn't want you to see this, Jamie. I would change this if I could. This was the last thing I wanted to happen to you. But I will not stoop to Carl Grave's level." _Too late for that, Steve thought to himself. "Carl Graves called himself a doctor. He was more of a businessman!"_

            "He took away your ideas."

            Garrison looked round at Steve. His gun was still on Amanda but slowly, inch by inch, she was starting to move away. Steve was managing to keep him distracted and even though Jamie didn't know it, he was as well by talking and asking questions. Garrison forgot he had the gun trained on her in the fist place. "He took away more than just ideas. He took away a whole future. He took away _my future!" he said, as though the thought brought him to tears. "I dreamed for ages of that hospital. I dreamed and then I tried to make it work. Then Carl Graves comes with his cheques and bagfuls of money and steals it from me. He never needed that hospital. It was just another thing to get him on the status map. I NEEDED THAT HOSPITAL!" He shouted it loudly. Walls vibrated and everyone else flinched. He turned to Jamie. "Why do you think I took you in. I knew what it was like to see a dream fade away. When you have been accused of something you wanted and didn't do. I knew how you felt."_

            Garrison shook his head. "Some dreams—some _desires—are too hard to ignore. They keep itching at you and you know they'll develop into rashes. And he did it. And I hated Graves for it. I hated him like no one could ever imagine. Even through all my sins and his I would never have forgiven him if God asked me to." The older man stopped and took a few deep breaths. "Never."_

            "So you just planned to kill him…like that."

            "I was careful," Garrison insisted. Amanda was now out of the way. Garrison had not noticed and because of that, had not even seen Jesse and Mark come out of their hiding place. They were full of curiosity over the story Garrison was about to tell. "I was careful. I hired Duke Lotella. They told me he was the best in America and I had enough money. I hired him to do it at the dinner party. Then he chickened out—told me he had a better offer so I decided to do it myself. I took some Cyanide because I had plenty of it from my practise and liquid potassium is hard to get for someone like me. I planted the liquid potassium near my area as soon as everyone got up after that long talk. No one would have noticed."

            "Clever."

            Garrison didn't hear the comment. "Then I slipped the drink to Jamie and told him to give it to Graves. He just happened to give it to Machu Lie along the way which was even better. Either way, the evidence would be too hard to definitely finger. When someone found Carl Graves dead, everyone ran there and I poured some water on the potassium making it start."

            "I couldn't imagine your shock when you saw Duke Lotella had come."

            Garrison nodded at Mark's comment. "I was definitely shocked. But at least I wouldn't be the one to blame. Hitmen never let people go after all or so I thought. He ran and there was commotion because of the fire. It went as I planned. I just never thought that Dr Travis and Duke Lotella would get so close. I could have got away with it. Travis come out here!"

            Jesse took an involuntarily step back in fear. To him, Garrison was an obsessed madman who would get what he wanted in the end. Mark, sensing that his protégé was scared, put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "Do you really think Elgar that it is worth all the hassle now—killing four people, maybe your own intern? It would be more deaths on your hands and imagine what Duke would do if he found out Jesse had been killed by you. Would you want six dead bodies on your hands? That doesn't go down well in court."

            Garrison's eyes turned towards Mark. "Don't put me in that position. You haven't been through what I have. You have your wonderful job, you were never involved what I was in, you trained the perfect student and you have the perfect son. I lost all of that so don't tell me nothing is worth it. Carl Graves was worth all the trouble. Framing Jeanie Morgstone and Machu Lie was worth the trouble as well. I planned the Cyanide in Jamie so he could send it to her."

            "You what—" Jamie out burst.

            "It was the only way!" Garrison cried loudly, almost desperately as though he didn't want to lose his star student. "She was just getting in your way and right for the taking. I would never incriminate you, Jamie. But in these things, I knew it was something I had to do to save you."

            He looked across the room. "Now I'll kill Travis for you as well."

            Jamie's eyes widened. Steve was about to go and do something as Garrison whipped his arm round towards Jesse who was standing near Mark. There was no way he could get out the way in time and from a distance of seven feet, he was unlikely to miss. The horrible sound of the bullet leaving the gun echoed through the warehouse. But Jesse didn't move. His face didn't register pain nor did his body react from the bullet. It never hit him and in fact Garrison had never shot in the first place.

            His gun spun from his hand, landing in one of the other isles. Crying in pain, Garrison clutched his hand, which was bleeding. Everyone else looked around, searching for the source of the shot. It was found on the balcony—a figure in brown standing with his legs apart for balance and both hands clamped round a gun still smoking on the end. Despite his injured arm, he had taken the sling off. He re-opened his eye he had been using for aim. Duke Lotella. Who else could it have been. Steve wasn't sure whether he should be overjoyed or angered. Then again, he had just saved Jesse's life—again.

            Garrison looked at Duke, clutching his bleeding hand. It had grazed the skin but it was enough to send down a torrent of blood. "You idiot!" he cried up at the man. "You were meant to work for me. You were meant to work for me just once in your miserable lifetime and you couldn't even do a job well enough to keep the police from finding me. You are worthless at your job."

            Duke didn't say anything. He just stared down at Garrison. From such a height, Jesse couldn't see the reaction on Duke's face but he seemed to be unresponsive. He was hardened. Was this the way he killed all his victims? With a cold hard stare? Jesse wondered if he would finish Garrison off right there and then. It was just another body to him. No one moved for a few seconds. Time seemed to come to a stand-still in front of them. Garrison decided to move first and make a desperate leap for his gun. The shot almost deafened them as Duke let out another shot centimeters from Garrison's head.

            "Don't think about it," Duke hissed at him loudly. There was such authority in his voice that Garrison stopped dead. He stared at the gun at the ground and then at Jesse Travis, who was still backed against the wall, a mixture of fear and relief on his face. 

            Garrison slowly turned round to look at Duke. "Are you going to kill me, Lotella?" he asked quietly. "I'm sure you are not afraid—or at least you weren't afraid before. You would have shot all six of us without a care in the world. What are we to you? Another bunch of bodies. There have been hundreds more befreohand. But no, circumstances have changed now. You've become soft."

            "I still have my aim," Duke replied tersely. "I shot the gun right out of your hand. And if you run now I will still shoot you in the back of the head…I will shoot you right between the eyes right now. I have good marksmanship." He shifted his gun for a moment and shot…right above Mark's head. The shot jogged them all and Steve suddenly wondered about Duke's mental state. Was he capable of shooting them in cold blood or for kicks? From the determined look on his face, he certainly didn't seem to be joking mood. "Do you want to move forward, Garrison? I can give you a demonstration. I still ain't afraid to pop someone."

            "You are a traitor to your own cause, Lotella," Garrison replied patiently looking at the man. "You are a hitman who failed to do his job and now stands at a decision, unsure of what to do. The sensible thing for you to do would be to kill us all."

            Jesse looked at Duke as well. He knew that once when a remark like that was made at Duke, he would have lashed out, hitting the person, attacking them, maybe killing them. But maybe some sense of maturity and thinking had made him realize that doing that wasn't the only way. He certainly wasn't shouting now, threatening to kill. "That would be doing your dirty work for you,"£ Duke said. "You want them dead, I heard you. I ain't holding the price of their deaths on my head. I wasn't hired to kill you. I _would kill you. But four of those I can't because they are friends of Jesse's. There is another doctor here who deserves to see you at least fall if not for Jesse's sake."_

            Garrison spread his arms. "And what about me?"

            Sirens were wailing. Garrison knew it. His face had a crude smile on his face. Jesse looked up at Duke again, wondering what he was going to do. Would Duke stay here and let himself get caught? Would he shoot it? Or would he prove one of Garrison's many points and make a break for it? All situations were dangerous. "Well, what would it be?"

            Duke's eyes narrowed. He thought out his actions carefully. What would he have normally done in these situations? Well, he'd kill all of them and then run without leaving a trace. They could identify him. Another post would be put out on his head and he didn't fancy lying low again. "Well," he started slowly, " Detective Sloan has been looking for you for so long. I helped him along the way. I'm not going to shoot them so you can get away with what you've done and live your life and blame it on me. I'm sure he can take it from here." As quickly as he appeared, he disappeared, running along the balcony and through one of the exit doors onto the roof. What happened to him after that was anyone's guess.

            Things happened quickly after that. Steve immediately leaped in to take an outraged Garrison before he could get his gun. There was a large seen as the warehouse doors opened again and police came charging in. Paramedics tended to Garrison quickly and to Steve as Mark and Amanda watched and to help asses the situation and explain what happened. Jesse stayed in the shadows,  he watched Jamie walked over to Garrison and said:

            "Why not just frame me?" he demanded quietly. "I was always there. You found other people to frame. I was always ready for something to do—why not just plant the Cyanide on me, forge some papers or something. Why everyone else but me?"

            Garrison looked at Jamie. "I couldn't do it to you," he said with enough heart felt emotion in him to make Jamie flinch. "You were my best student. I could never do that to you. I understood you and I knew you wanted to get far. I didn't want to ruin everything you were trying to achieve like Travis had. I liked you like you were a son of mine and I taught you everything and beyond what you know. I would never do anything like that to you, Jamie." Behind his glasses, he looked genuine and his voice certainly proved that. He really didn't want to let Jamie know what had happened.

            Jamie shook his head. "All that medical talk you told me. Then _you go and do something like this. And all this talk about to try and stop hating so much before you do something you regret like revenge—and to never become like you. Now I know why you said it."_

            The cop started to pull Garrison away. "You were _always my best student," Garrison said, as he was walking off. Jamie watched him with icy blue eyes and then with a cold fury, he turned around and kicked at the nearby wooden box, sending it spinning along the ground. Jesse watched Jamie carefully and then stood a few feet away from him as Garrison was dragged to the car and placed inside. Looking at Jamie's face, he had turned into a hard-case again. Not a trace of emotion showed on his face but Jesse wondered how he was feeling inside._

            Jamie noticed Jesse for the first time, standing beside him. His eyes narrowed. "Go on, say it," he said. "Garrison must be wrong. He's lied about everything else, he lied about me being a good student. His best student."

            Jesse shook his head. "That wasn't what I was going to say." He sighed and looked at Jamie who refused to look at him. "Not at all. In fact, I was going to say the opposite. You must be a good doctor if he respected you so much. He saw you for what you were—unlike me who just saw you as a cheater and threw you out."

            Jamie sighed. "So much good that does me now." He looked over at Mark and then at Jesse. "It's not fair. How come you got everything you ever wanted. You got all the money, the wonderful education in Minnesota and a great mentor who may not be worldly brilliant but seems to understand you, care for you and have an interesting background."

            "You're talking about the kid who has everything? The kid whose parents are divorced? The kid who tried so hard to please his mom and dad? I never asked for Mark. He just seemed to appear. I can't describe how lucky I am. But you don't need a mentor. You have everything you need now and just need to go get what you now want." Jesse turned round and faced Jamie. "You know, I had totally forgotten you existed until you came back again. I never knew how angry I actually was and how I had made you feel in what I did. We were both young, we were both stupid—maybe I was stupider…"

            "Are you asking for forgiveness, Travis?"

            "Would you rather hate forever."

            The two men stared at each other for a few moments. No one noticed them in the arrest frenzy—two men having a minor argument. "I didn't even know how much I hated you or how much I forgot until I returned. But if I know one thing that's come out of it is a lot of memories. I know that I never blonged in Minnesota. I didn't understand what was going on anyway. I was a trouble maker. Besides, if you never got me kicked out, I would never have met Garrison."

            Jesse raised his eyebrows. "So, are we forgiven."

            Jamie shrugged. "I have yet to think about whether I have." He shook his hand. "But I suppose I can forget insulting you from now, egging you on into fights and just let the past go. What's done is done. There isn't any more we can do about it."

            Jesse smiled and took his hand. "Couldn't have put it better myself."

**Once again, another Chapter, and thanks for all the reviews people have been giving. We are just one chapter away from the end of this story which I'm sure everyone is fed up with reading now, lol. End of authors rant except for one thing: Good luck to everyone in ****England**** who are getting their GCSE results (tomorrow?) I'm sure you all did well in your subjects!! **


	22. Part 3--Chapter 8

THE SHAFT

Part 3 — Chapter 8

          Duke ran like mad. He run for ages until the pain in his legs just didn't register any more. All he knew was that he had to get away. He couldn't stay there any more. What with all those cops and that scene he had put up—it was impossible. He would have been caught and tried like Garrison any way. He needd to make a living on killing, not rotting in a jail cell. Steve Sloan would have loved to capture him, he was sure. But the look on Jesse's face, the pliant ones of the rest, the mocking ones of Garrison—it was all too much. He was suffocating in that warehouse no matter how big it was.

          So he just ran out from the balcony onto the roof. He looked around and slowly made his way down by jumping onto other roofs and landing with both feet on the ground as the police entered the building. He was careful to make sure no one spotted him as he ran out of the gate that concealed the factory and made it freely onto the highway. With the gun at his side and his arm still throbbing after taking it from its reassuring cast, he set off down the highway, running as fast as he could go.

          Finally, though, he came into familiar areas of Los Angeles where he had spent the best part of two weeks. Now he was sitting in park, leaning on the railing like Jesse had done those few weeks ago and thinking. He stared out at the massive lake and watched the ripples from the result of children throwing stones in the water attempting to scare fish. For the moment they seemed to calm his nerves and his body. He was still breathing heavily from all that running and now he could finally relax.

          "Damien, come on, stop throwing stones in the pond. You know what I've told you a million times before that if you ever do that…" the mother dragged her child and his friend past Duke without casting a glance at him. Duke stayed at the park for a long time. He watched the lake from his spot, watched the clouds go past and observed the changing color of the sky from a pale blue, to a pink and then to a purple as night began to set in.

          He ran a hand through his dark brown hair and sighed in frustration. Should he leave LA now? People would be more interested in Garrison than him. It would be much easier to skip over the border unnoticed and enter Chicago, his former home. Or should he wait for Jesse? Was it worth it? How did Jesse feel towards him now anyway. The thoughts were killing him and he thought so much that he eventually had nothing left to think about.

          "I'm glad you haven't skipped state," someone said behind him.

          Duke half closed his eyes and let out a hiss. He recognized the voice so turning round, he gave a glared look at the man standing behind him with his hands in his pockets. "Oh shit," he muttered lazily and turned back round to the lake after seeing Steve. "So this is it, huh. I walk down that same road Garrison does. At least I got some of my pride." He twisted his head slightly. "How did you find me?"

          Steve shifted from his position and stood next to Duke. "We were trying to find you. Jesse thought this would be a last resort."

          Duke rolled his eyes. "Great, you help a guy out as much as you can and rats on you. Well, I don't expect miracles. I've gotten away with too much I guess." He turned to Steve and held out his hands with fists clenched. "Go on, get out those handcuffs. You must be itching to get those bloody things on me for a long time."

          Steve shook his head and pushed Duke's hands away. "I'm not going to arrest you."

          Duke raised an incredulous eyebrow at him. "And I thought I was having cold feet. Gimme one reason why _you don't wanna arrest __me."_

          "Well, one, for what you did back there. Most hitmen follow the rules. They shoot anyone who gets in the way. But you just let it all go. You saved Jesse and you did the right thing, to give Garrison the justice he deserved behind bars." Duke rolled his eyes. "Secondly, you have been very good to Jesse. I didn't see it at first—must be a cop intuition—but I didn't like you. I didn't like you tagging along with my best friend. I thought you were up to something and I was afraid he was gonna get hurt."

          "I wouldn't hurt Jesse. I realized that when I trapped in there with him."

          Steve nodded. "I know. The days after you disappeared, I thought you would be like any other hitman and come after Jesse. I thought that the friendship you were having in the hospital was just a ploy to get yourself out and then you'd kill him. But you didn't. Then you give him all the proof that we needed—helped us back at the beach house and helped us yet again."

          "It was for Jesse's benefit, though."

          Steve nodded again. "I'm sure it was. But I just wanted to say to you thanks. I never really thought I'd say it to someone like you but it shows how times can change. I'm not going to arrest you and this meeting never happened, all right?  We just get along with our separate lives." He held out his hand. Duke looked down at it and then into Steve's eyes, wondering whether this was a joke. Then, tantively, he reached out and shook Steve's hand. "Thanks. Hey, Jesse's in the car. Do you want me to send him out."

          Duke sighed and looked at the lake again. "Only if he wants to." Steve looked back at the man and then started to walk away. Jesse was already pacing beside the car impatiently when Steve wandered over towards him. Steve was smiling slightly.

          "No struggle then?" he asked. Steve shook his head. "Can I go?" At Steve's first not, Jesse walked into the park with Steve watching. But he found walking too slow. Eventually he was jogging and found Duke leaning against the railing that separated the ground from the water. He slowed down though as he reached Duke. "Hey," he said.

          Duke turned towards him. "I was wondering whether you would show."

          "And why wouldn't I?"

          Duke shrugged. "I thought that maybe you wouldn't want to see me. I mean, after everything that's happened, it all seems rather strange now. It was different in the elevator and at the hospital. Even then we were getting in too deep. Now after all our arguments I just thought…"

          "Oh shut up," Jesse replied good naturdely. "It's not my fault you're…"

          "Soft?"

          Both men broke out in anger. Jesse stopped soon though and looked at Duke. "I wouldn't have quite put it that way. I suppose you have become softer since meeting me. Things have changed for both of us and I guess-well, we've been through a lot of things. It's strange." Duke nodded in agreement and Jesse narrowed his eyes towards him curiously. "Are you going to back to your old ways."

          Duke nodded. "Yes." Jesse's head snapped round. "Don't think you can change me, Kid. I am what I am and that's a killer. I  am paid to kill and that's the way I am. It's the way I always will be because it's how I get around."

          Jesse shook his head. "It doesn't have to be…because…well, come on. You know you can change. You can start over again, get a proper house and stuff. You could live in LA."

          Duke sighed. "It doesn't work like that. We have to go through the whole process of getting a name change, paper work, changing my whole lifestyle, which just isn't me. I can't stay still because almost every state as a price for my head. It would take me ages even with a chance of parole, to get off a sentence. By that time, you could be old and wrinkled. It's too hard." Jesse opened his mouth but Duke looked down sharply. "Leave it, kid, it's never going to work. We just go back to what we did. Doctor and murderer."

          Sighing dejectedly, Jesse looked down at his feet. "You know that agreement that we made—the one about forgetting what happened. We know we're never going to forget about it so what's the use in trying to. It's going to stay in our minds forver."

          Duke nodded. "True. I know I ain't gonna forget and I don't wanna forget either. It's been—what's the word…"

          "Um…interesting?"

          "I was thinking more inspiring." Jesse raised his eyebrows at the compliment. "No, I'm speaking honestly and before you ask, I _do know what the word means. Truth is, Doc, I haven't had a friend for a long time. I forgot what it was like to have a friend and that made me scared at first. I thought it would interfere with my job and it did. But it won't affect me with every job, just you. I ain't gonna forget you. You've taught me a lot of things and I think I've taught you some as well. I'm sure that somewhere along the line, I will get to meet you again. My job takes me all over the world."_

          Jesse sighed. "So that's it. Definite goodbye now?"

          Duke nodded remorsefully. "Definitely. But I will come back even if it is just to see you." He looked at Jesse's pleased face. Twisting his face slightly, he spotted Steve out of the corner of his eyes and rolled his eyes. _Figures, he thought. "Yeah, and on top of all that friendship thing, you got some good friends as well. At least they tend to care about you and you know that they ain't likely to abandon you."_

          Jesse nodded. "I know. Even though you're not in that circle, you still count as a friend as much as they do." Duke didn't reply. "So…where do you go next. Got another offer?"

          Duke scrunched up his nose and thought—then he shook his head. "Got a few offers from LA people. Nothing that appeals me, though. Just general standard hit and run." He winked. "I'm a professional, remember."

          "Oh, yes, the brilliant marksman," Jesse said, praising him.

          "Well, considering that circumstances have changed, I've decided a slight change of scenery. I was thinking maybe Germany."

          Jesse's face was full of unmasked shock. "Ger-Germany? As in Europe? As in half way across the world."

          Duke nodded. "Yeah, that one." He looked at Jesse's face, which was asking the big question of _why. "I know, I know, it's a long way away. But it seems that Germany has a lot of haters that may want some action taken." He winked at Jesse who rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm sure someone will want their job to take me elsewhere. Let's face it, America's the big country—the gamers and all."_

          Jesse laughed. "No kidding." He held out his hand towards Duke. "You don't know how much it meant meeting you and this experience."

          "You will have a less of an idea of what it meant to me," Duke answered. "Don't worry, we'll be meeting each other again sometime soon. You'll see. Just don't bother trying to contact me or hunt me down. It could end up being worse for you and your friends. Not even out of this park." Jesse nodded and turned round to lean with his back against the face as Duke walked his way through the silence of the darkening park. He didn't turn back to look at him in fear of seeing the pained expression on his face.          

          Soon, Duke was just another shadow amongst all those dark trees and park benches until he had disappeared all together. Jesse sighed, wondering if the man could keep to his word and come back again. Feeling slightly happy, he smiled mischievously through the darkness. "You can come out now, Steve."

          A few seconds later, a rustling was heard through the trees and Steve came out. "Was I that obvious?" he asked.

          Jesse shrugged. "I didn't spot you, Duke did."

          "Oh, okay." Steve stood next to Jesse against the railing, looking into the darkness. He had been friends with Jesse long enough and been through his difficulties enough times to know how his friend worked. Even through their bad spell he still knew that his friend was pleasantly happy and relieved that there was a hint of disappointment. "You all right, Jess."

          "Yeah," Jesse replied lazily. "I'm all right now. All good things come to an end—'kay, he wasn't always a good thing but it was fun while it lasted even through the bad bits…." He paused. "Do you think he'll come back."

          Steve turned round and put his elbows on the railing, looking at the stillness of the water. Jesse glanced down at him. "I don't really know, Jess. It's hard to understand how men like that work, you probably don't know yourself. But he grew a strange likeness to you with even in all my years on the force I have never seen from hitmen. If it's as strong as I think it is, he'll be back."

          Jesse smiled. "But until then, I'm stuck with you as a friend."

          Steve punched him lightly in the arm. "Hey," he pretended to be hurt. "Don't worry, you won't regret it."

*  *  *  *  *

          Barbecue Bob's had been steaming with people. The air was hot, the talk was loud, the smell was mouth watering and the food was better. It was yet another one of those nights at the restaurant where Jesse and Steve couldn't sit down for a few minutes without another load of customers piling in, or a loud coming out or orders to take and meals to carry over. Mark, Amanda and CJ had already reserved their seats earlier. Haley had come in half way through the night but had barely managed to get a word to her boyfriend. CJ leaned back folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. "I sure dunno how they do it," he commented.

          "Do what?" Mark asked.

          "Well, Jesse is a doctor. He works long nights sometimes. And Steve is a cop always chasing people round town with his guns and everything. How do they still manage to run a restaurant all this time?" He threw his hands in the air melodramatically and let out a sigh of disbelief.

          Mark and Amanda smiled. "Well, CJ, I suppose after a while, you get used to certain things. When you've been doing it for a long time, it becomes like a habit and it can be hard to quit. I hope they don't overwork themselves as well. They are committed to their day jobs."

          "I wish I weren't committed to school," CJ muttered.

          "Trust me, you'll regret that remark one day," Haley offered.

          Finally, after a moment's piece, Steve and Jesse joined them round the table. They seemed slightly worn out after running on their feet most of the evening. Haley put her arm around Jesse's shoulders. "Stressful day?"

          "Uh, you could say that," Jesse replied but was rewarded with Haley's kiss.

          CJ made a disgusted face and Mark, Amanda and Steve grinned secretly to one another. It was then that the door opened again. Steve could tell that Jesse was engrossed with his girlfriend again. He decided to leave Jess to it. Ever since Duke had left, Jesse had now officially returned to normal. He spent his time with his friends and his girlfriend with no more secrets. Nothing was said about the case apart from Garrison's punishment. It was a long and complicated process as he was a German citizen not an American.

          Steve turned around at the sound of the jingling door opened. He paused in his seat and he couldn't help from smiling either. Standing at the door was a brunette with long brown hair, green eyes and an almost shy and out of place expression on her face. Steve immediately got up as his father and Amanda started talking to walk towards her. "Hi," he said stopping in front of her. He couldn't help feeling happy when Danielle's face seemed to ease at the sight of him.

          "Hi," she answered and then paused. Then she started laughing. "Boy, I must look like a complete idiot. I—err—wanted to help you for helping Machu. He's really grateful. He's…well, running most of the company better than Graves ever did."

          Steve nodded. "Great."

          "Yeah, well…I wanted to thank you," Danielle said. "Even though we don't date any more. Someone said you own this restaurant and that you'd be here. Thought I'd drop by and see. Impressive."

          Steve beamed. "Thanks."

          "So…yeah…well, maybe I should…" she started to turn round.

          "You don't have to," Steve said, a little to hurriedly and loudly. "I mean, have you eaten. If not, I could treat you to something here if you want. It's not trouble. It could be on the house."

          Danielle smiled casually and nodded. "Yes. Yes, I'd like that very much."

          Steve led her over to the counter as he went round it and they started talking. Amanda, Mark, Jesse and Haley watched from their table, trying to catch Steve's eye but he was successfully avoiding them. He knew what they were going to say. CJ wrinkled up his nose and he picked up his glass of coke. "Are they gonna do that Jesse and Haley just did?"

          Jesse laughed and elbowed CJ. "Depends how fast Steve is willing to go."

          Haley pulled him back towards her as CJ laughed and Amanda looked at him sharply. Mark and Amanda engaged in another conversation about CJ as Jesse and Haley turned to each other. Haley put a hand on Jesse's shoulder. "You're all right now after everything, yes?"

          "What everything?"

          "You know what everything. About Duke and about Jamie Condrack and Dr Garrison—the whole lot. I know you were depressed beforehand but you seemed to have got back on your feet easily. Is everything okay now?"

          Jesse looked around. "I have my friends—I have the people I work with. I have my job. I gained a new friend. I think I got another one back. And I have the best girlfriend that any man could ask for. There is no depression on top of me, Haley. Just happiness."

          "Glad to hear it," Haley remarked as she kissed him again. 

          But this was torn apart quickly by someone making their way across the room, taking a chair and parking himself down. He looked around. "Man, I am starved. I'll have the double barbecued burger and can you add some extra fries and onion rings on mine? And a coke as well." Pete smiled sweetly at Jesse. Rolling his eyes, Jesse stood up, letting go of Haley's hand to do the work. Yes, things were back to normal. Friends—kept, maybe still lost or gained; job—still kept; a girlfriend. Life was good.

*  *  *  *  *

          Jamie sat back on his seat. He was on an overnight plane to Germany. It was going to be another case of jet lag. He had gotten so used to LA. He didn't realize how much he missed America when he moved to Germany. He had flown out feeling really excited and good. He was going with his expert Doctor. He was going to a special convention. But along the line of about three weeks, things rapidly went downhill. Now, on the plane back with the rest of the Surgical Institution, Jamie had mixed emotions. He had a seat all to himself, two whole seats but he sat beside the window, looking out into pitch blackness dotted with stars and clouds and the reflection of the moon on the water as it took off.

          Jamie left with a torrent of feelings and emotions. He didn't know how he felt any more. The main was loss. He had lost his mentor—the one he came to for advice all the time when he was down or in need. It had been taken so quickly.

          But apart from the loss of his mentor he was left with depression. Jeanie Morgstone. So what if she was a one night stand. It could have worked. As soon as Jamie was a totally qualified doctor he knew he'd returned to the US and do work here. He could have kept in touch with Jeanie. She was so beautiful and charming. And Garrison knew this and he was just the pawn in order to get Jeanie Morgstone incriminated. But even though she could have had Jamie, she was so depressed about Carl that she killed herself painfully and quickly.

          And then there was Jesse Travis. This was the one that puzzled him most. If that name had been said before he met up with him again, he would have been angry, yes, but not as angry as he was when he finally met Travis again. The mention of his name made the blood boil in his veins like wild fire. He wanted to strangle him. Now, on the plane, thinking about Travis made him wonder how much hate had been wasted on him. Travis _had apologized after all for everything he'd done. And he __didn't mock Jamie when he could have after Garrison was taken away._

_          Never let any type of envy of anger of someone lead you to revenge. It could have dire consequences. Well trapping Travis in that elevator wasn't that dire, was it? But in the deepest part of his mind, he wanted to see Travis again. He never got the chance. Travis was sorry. Maybe that could turn the page and started all over again. Jamie knew he had to start his life over again Germany after all of this._

          He pushed back his blond hair and forced himself not to cry. Why did things always go wrong for him? And why now? But being the typical kind of Jamie, not emotion penetrated through his face outwardly. It was all rolling round and round inside him. He spotted a nurse walked down the isle with a class of champagne on a tray. He stopped her as she passed. "Excuse me," he said, "could I have a large glass of vodka, please?"

          "Certainly, I'll be right with you." She carried on her journey up the isle to a man sitting at the back, looking with an amused expression out of the window. "Here's your champagne, Mr. Alletol." 

          The man picked up the glass and thanked the woman. He looked out towards the window and raised his glass down to hidden LA through the clouds. "Cheers," Duke said, and sat back on his way to Germany.

THE END


End file.
